A Greater Game for Three
by The-First-Step
Summary: Charlotte Myers had only wanted to get away from all the games.  Escape the insanity that had plagued her half her life. A bomber is loose in  London but her feelings of guilt make it harder to deal with the great  consulting detective of 221B Baker Stree
1. Chapter 1

**One**

**Whoop! Let's get this party started! This is the first chapter of my third Sherlock instalment, done upon demand of my readers from my first two fics. If you haven't read them please do for there are some minor plot twists that will confuse a 'probi' who hasn't. "A Study of Crimson Colour" is my first and "I'm Banking on It" is the second. For those of you who are avid readers of my work, welcome back and bless you. **

_**Go raibh maith agaibh or **__**Thank you all.**__**Enjoy!**_

Charlie POV:

It was extremely late by the time Charlie stumbled through the door of 221B Baker Street. A clock on the mantel piece confirmed her worst suspicions by announcing the approach of one o'clock in the blood morning. Her Aunt's apartment showed no light or sound, reminding Charlie exactly how late she'd been working recently.

"Fan-fucking-tastic." She muttered irritably as she shrugged off her leather jacket and mounted the stairs cautiously. The living-room was still alive with sound and she groaned, knowing her hopes to avoid her flat mate had once again fallen short of the mark. Jacket over one arm Charlie took a fortifying breath and entered the room. A second later she giggled. Sherlock was slouched within the confines of an armchair… watching midnight television dramas with an expression that clearly told the world he was unimpressed. His thin frame spoke volumes, slumped pitifully on the cushions while arms tightly folded across his chest. His intense blue eyes were glued to the set; picking up every clue, storing away every detail of the half-hearted mystery for later. Thankfully it seemed his attention was fixed entirely on the screen so she quietly placed her jacket of the rack beside his and sauntered over to the couch, hoping to catch a few moments shut eye. Gratefully she sank down onto the seat, curling her legs up into her stomach and folding her arms beneath her chin to watch the TV amusedly. She'd just managed to relax when Sherlock exploded.

"Idiots! She can't have murdered him, she's at least two inches too short and she had her nails done." He exclaimed and she jumped slightly.

"Sherlock, calm down would you? It's a late night serial drama with little-to-no-plot and it's obviously driving you balmy, go check your blog or something." She said calmly and he turned to look at her, as though realising for the first time that she was in the room.

"Charlotte, what are you still doing up?" He demanded and she smirked.

"Watching telly." She said smartly and he frowned. His collar was opened and her eyes were drawn instinctively to a faint mark on the side of his neck… a mark she recognised instantly. The smirk slipped off her face and she swallowed. Shaking her head she turned her attention back to the screen, feeling more than seeing, his eyes roll. He stood and moved over to John's laptop. Upon hearing his muttering she turned her eyes to the laptop screen.

"Sherlock why are you still commandeering John's laptop?" She asked and he shrugged, peering intensely at the small screen. She too got up and came around to peer at it. With a satisfying snap he closed the lid and stood.

"Have you ever been to Belarus?" Sherlock asked and she frowned.

"No, I've heard it's cold." She replied and he smiled.

"Freezing." He said shortly, jumping around the room excitedly. She peered at him warily.

"Pack a coat Charlotte, I think it snows this time of year." He said softly and she gaped at him.

"I never said I would go." She protested lamely and he chuckled from within the confines of his bachelor cave.

"Doesn't mean you're not." He returned smartly. She groaned but moved towards her room. It was mornings like this that made her want to commit murder.

A few hours later:

It was freezing. Charlie sat stiffly on the plastic chair, rubbing her gloveless hands together ferverently in a poor attempt to bring them back to life. Her breath was a distinct cloud of fog before her face and she knew without trying to touch that her face had already lost all feeling.

"Here." A deep voice beside her said and a pair of larger sized gloves were placed in her lap. She looked up at Sherlock in surprise, a silent question in her eyes. He shrugged nonchalantly.

"I dragged you here, I might as well make sure you don't lose a finger or two… your Aunt would probably add it to my rent." He mused and she frowned. Then she smiled, at least he cared. Gratefully she pulled the still warm articles on and the pair turned simultaneously to face the only other occupant in the room. The man opposite them kept leering at her in a frightfully unappealing way. Tempted to release a round of swear words vile enough to turn his hair white Charlie held herself together by crossing her arms and legs defiantly. This _slat _wasn't going to ruin her day any more than it already was.

"So, tell me exactly what happened." Sherlock said finally. The man grinned.

"Well we was at this bar-" He began and Charlie growled internally at the defilement of her second language.

"Were." She said irritably.

"Huh?" Came the intelligent reply and she looked up from picking lint off her jacket to stare at him boredly.

"You _were_ in a bar. Anyway, please continue." She said politely. He scowled.

"An' I was chatting up some of the waitresses and Karen weren't happy about that-" He continued.

"Wasn't happy." Sherlock noted primly and she flashed him a quick glance. The man's fists clenched but he continued.

"And we went back to the hotel and ended up having a bit of a ding dong don't we? She kept saying I weren't a real man-" He said angrily. She looked at him, an eyebrow raised sardonically.

"_Wasn't_ a real man...and suddenly there's a knife in my hands. And my old man was a butcher, he learned us how to cut up a beast-" The odious man stopped at her next interruption.

"Taught you, not learned." She reminded him smoothly, yawning for extra effect. She could see his fury was mounting and knew she had but moments before it exploded.

"And then I done it-"

"Did it." She injected.

"I DID IT! STABBED HER OVER AND OVER AGAIN! JUST LIKE I WILL YOU, YOU BLOODY BITCH!" He screamed and launched himself across the table. Having anticipated his reaction Charlie moved to the side. He went to punch her. She leaned back, but needn't have bothered. His fist was suddenly held inside Sherlock's. She turned to look at her flat mate and college. He was outwardly calm, as always, but there was a furious gleam in his eyes which made her shiver. Slowly he lowered the man's fist and stood, taking her arm as he did. She didn't protest.

"I think we're done here." He said and she nodded.

"Please Mr. Holmes! I'll get hung for this!" The man pleaded and Charlie didn't even bother to look around.

"No you won't," Sherlock said, smiling slightly.

"Hanged, yes." And they left. Once outside Sherlock grabbed her firmly and stared down at her carefully, taking in every inch of her for some imagined injury.

"Are you alright?" He asked worriedly and she nodded, feeling slightly heady at his concern.

"Please, he didn't even glance a blow." She said confidently then she hugged him gently.

"Thank you." She said softly in his ear before drawing away and walking off down the thin corridor to the exit.

The next day: 

Sherlock was bored again. Walking into the apartment late once again Charlie found him sulking in his blue silk dressing gown, firing a gun at the wall. She placed her hands over her ears and waited for a pause in the shots before walking cautiously into the room. He turned to look at her before returning to his exercise. Each bullet landed along the yellow lines of the smiley face he had painted on the wall. She sighed and sat down on the couch. Soon she heard the door open and John marched in, shopping in hand.

"What the HELL are you doing?" He demanded angrily and Charlie indicated towards Sherlock, shifting a bright red bang out of her eyes as she did so. She really needed to cut it, it was getting way to long now.

"Bored." Sherlock announced.

"What?" John asked and Charlie sighed. Sherlock pointed the gun blindly.

"Bored! BORED! BORED! BORED!" He shot at the wall to punctuate every 'bored' making Charlie roll her eyes in exasperation.

" Sherlock we get it, you're bored." She said as John walked towards the fridge. It's a sad moment in a person's life when finding their flat mate firing bullets into a wall doesn't raise alarm bells in the mind and is simply accepted as a normal part of said flat mate… Charlie realised that moment had come and groaned.

"We got anything in? I'm starving!" John asked over the noise of their infantile friend.

"John..." She warned as he opened the fridge door. There was silence while he closed it, continued as he opened it once more. The second closing was followed by a leaning against the door. She smirked at the ceiling and waited.

"There's a head in the fridge...a bloody head!" John yelled and she sighed.

"Just tea for me thanks." Sherlock said and Charlie threw a book at his head, narrowly missing permanent damage and causing him to glare reproachfully at her.

"I'm measuring the coagulation of saliva after death." Sherlock said evenly. She glanced over at him and smiled.

"I'm still waiting for a thank for that, it took all my bargaining skills to convince Thalia to allow that head out of the morgue." She said and he nodded.

"Yes, thank you." He muttered distractedly. She rolled her eyes.

"We read your blog by the way, A Study in Pink." She said and John popped his head back into the room.

"Did you...did you like it?" He asked and Charlie was spared the time of answering by an antsy Sherlock.

"Hmm, let me think...no." he said irritably.

"Why not?" John bristled.

"I thought you'd be flattered."

"'Sherlock Holmes sees through everyone and everything. What amazes me though is how spectacularly ignorant he can be about some things.'" Quoted Sherlock sarcastically. Charlie now realised the origin of his foul mood over the last few days and relaxed against her cushions.

"No I didn't mean..." John began but was instantly cut off.

"Oh you meant 'spectacularly ignorant' in a _nice _way. Just because I don't care about who's sleeping with whom or who's prime minister..." Sherlock said angrily.

"Or whether the Earth goes round the Sun or not." John added cheaply, earning another book throw from Charlie. He dodged but it glanced his shoulder. She snorted and smirked as they argued about the importance of astronomy.

"What does it matter?" Sherlock exploded.

"If we go round the moon or round and round the garden like a teddy bear it wouldn't make a difference. All that matters is the work, without that my brain rots… write that in your blog or better yet stop inflicting your opinions on the world." He said angrily and John stormed from the flat. Silence fell over the flat and Charlie sighed.

"Sherlock that wasn't nice." She said to his prone body, which had migrated to beside her own but remained stubbornly turned towards the wall. He remained facing the other way at her comment. Charlie spotted her aunt walking up the stairs.

"Have you had a little domestic?" She asked teasingly and Charlie rolled her eyes.

"They were arguing Aunty Em, not me." She said to her favourite family member. She chuckled before seeing the bullet holes in the wall.

"Who did that to my bloody wall?" She demanded and Charlie flinched stood and grinned at his landlady charmingly. The woman in question simply scowled and turned away to retreat downstairs.

"That's going on your rent young man!" She called over her shoulder and Charlie shook her head gingerly. The windows were dark and she knew John would not be back tonight. She stood and walked towards her room.

"Charlotte." A soft voice called out from behind her and she paused.

"Yes Sherlock?" She asked and turned to face him quizzically. He seemed nervous.

"Would you… like a game of chess, we haven't played on in ages. You're always at work or sleeping, you hardly talk anymore and, I never thought I'd hear myself say this, it's sending me a little haywire." He said softly and she felt shock ripple her body. Standing in the doorway, gaping like an idiot she could only nod.

"Sure, just let me get changed." She said and disappeared into her room. She returned momentarily. The board was already set up and she gently folded herself into a yoga worthy position on the armchair. The game began and suddenly all the uneasiness she'd been feeling since that night two weeks ago just silted away. They played deep into the morning, the game finally called stalemate as dawn broke over Baker Street. Sherlock was smiling, something he hadn't done since the last case and she couldn't stop her own from breaking over her face.

"Why is it that you are the only person I don't mind tying with?" She asked as they lay top and tail on the couch. Sherlock quirked a brow at her and she shrugged.

"I think I'll sleep here, play your violin anytime in the next three hours and I will personally rip it apart." She said sweetly and closed her eyes.

"Sleep well Charlotte." He said and she grinned.

"Morning." She muttered and slipped off into sleep.

Sherlock POV:

Sherlock was pacing around the living room by the time Charlie woke up. The sun wasn't long up and he turned to look over at her as she stood to walk over and open the curtains. She smiled over at him and the sunlight alighted the deep circles beneath her eyes. Why hadn't he noticed them before? She hadn't slept well since her brother's funeral, but something told him it wasn't all that was wrong. He turned away from the windows just in time to hear an enormous bang echo through the apartment and be flung forwards onto the floor. A scream of pain came from behind him and he was on his feet in an instant.

"Charlie!" he screamed and moved to where she lay on her back. Glass from the imploded windows was buried in her face and there was blood everywhere. She was breathing hard but fighting to control the shock. He knelt beside her and gently helped her to her feet. He escorted her to the chemical laden kitchen table and forced her into one of the stools while he searched for the emergency kit.

"Sherlock...how bad is it?" She asked quietly and he looke over at her once more, his stomach twisting in his gut at the sight of her bloodied face. It was worse than when he'd accidently punched her in the eye whilst fighting the messengers from Saudi Arabia but by no means scaring, she must have turned away just in time to avoid being blinded. He walked over and began to pull the pieces from her skin and clean the wounds gently. He pushed her vibrant red hair back from her forehead and stared at her face.

"It will not scar. You are lucky the glass missed your eyes." He said softly and she flinched at the touch of antiseptic on her cuts.

"I'm sorry." He said softly but she shook her head.

"You're very gentle." She whispered and he felt an odd stirring deep in his core, down where he was sure it was not proper to feel such a twinge. She looked, although it was a highly improbable notion, extremely beautiful. Even injured and in pain, dressed in nothing but torn pajamas she managed to look naturally wonderful… hold those flaming horses what the hell was wrong with him.

"_Cac." _He muttered and she chuckled.

"You're swearing in Gaelic now? I'll be careful as to what I say around you from now on." She teased and he grinned. He finished his patch up and smoothed the small bandage over her right eye gently before drawing it away quickly. She stiffened but smiled and hoped down from the stool. The door went and Charlie rolled her eyes.

"John's probably forgotten his keys again..." She muttered. He stood and moved to the door of the living room and gazed downstairs.

"I'll get it." He said and she nodded, disappearing to her room. He walked down the stairs and opened the door to reveal a person he'd hope half to hell he wouldn't have had to see again. He stood aside and let him through, stalking irritably back up the stairs to survey the damage to the apartment. Charlei appeared from her room, tugging a brush through her now medium length red hair. She was dressed in a pair of old jeans and a vintage Woodstock t-shirt obviously belonging to her deceased brother. Her feet were enclosed in a pair of black heels of about three inches. The remains of the window lay around the room. Her eyes flew wide at the sight of their visitor and swore softly.

"Shit! Mycroft, what on earth are you doing here?" She asked snootily and Sherlock was happy to hear the terseness in her tone. Mycroft frowned but extended his hand towards her.

"Miss Myers, I had hoped to settle a few differences between us considering the proposition I have for your and my brother." He said and she sighed. Planting a smile on her face she shook his hand.

"Tea?" She asked and he shook his head. Sherlock had to hand it to the man, he could be a gentleman when it suited him… right now however it was in his own best intentions for Charlie to remain angry at his brother.

"Hi John." She said quickly as their final flat mate arrived home at last and nodded tensely at Sherlock who simply sat irritably in an arm chair. Mycroft also sat and began to explain to Sherlock about something called the 'Bruce-Partington plans'. Sherlock watched Charlie move to sit on the couch to listen, ignoring Mycroft's evident dislike of her presence. Sherlock looked up at Mycroft and decided to play a little.

"How's the diet?" He quipped and his older brother frowned.

"Fine." Mycroft answered, annoyed.

"Sherlock this case is of National importance, don't make me order you." He said and Shelrock snorted. The last time his brother had tried Sherlock had gone into hiding for over a year… his brother hadn't ever tried again.

"I'd like to see you try. Why can't you do it anyway? Too low level?"

"I can't afford to be away from the office, not with the Korean elections so..." Mycroft said and Charlie whistled.

"Exactly how involved in politics are you Mycroft?" She asked and the man smiled. He looked over at her and smirked.

"That is classified, unless you'd like to guess." He said and she frowned.

"Oh so you're the political keeper of the broom closet… no one really knows what the hell you do but the whole place would inevitably fall to pieces if you weren't around." She returned smartly and Sherlock grinned.

"Sums you up to a t Mikey." He said and his older brother scowled.

"_Anyway_, cases like this involve 'legwork_'._ At least consider it?" Mycroft demanded and Sherlock looked away to stare at Charlie to gauge her reaction. Damningly her face was blank. He looked away and his brother stood slowly.

"Well I have to get going. Charlotte, are you all right?" Mycroft asked, genuinely concerned when her fringe floated out of the way and her bandage was seen. She nodded, her own expression shocked at his question.

"Yes, it was just a scratch. As you can see the windows exploded...I'm fine though." She said quickly and he nodded.

"Good." He smiled.

"Sherlock you really should consider that case. Good bye." He said and turned to face Charlie.

"Charlotte, it was good to see you again. Watch out for yourself my dear." He said and Sherlock scowled darkly at the carpet. Looking up he saw Charlie smiling at Mycroft, a genuine smile that he had to work hard to obtain. His stomach sank and he grabbed his violin. John was watching him and Charlie showed his brother out. At her return Sherlock screeched loudly on his violin, the violet notes ringing through the apartment and echoing the foulness of his mood.

"Well that proves it then." John said quietly and Charlie squinted at him curiously.

"Proves what?" She asked.

"That Sherlock is human after all. Sibling rivalry, nice." He said and she chuckled. Sherlock was about to retort when his phone rang.

"Hello?" He said and a deep sigh echoed at the end.

"Sherlock, its Lestrade. We need you down at the station, bring the others." Came the irritated response.

"On our way." He said and snapped the phone shut. Within moments all three were out the door and hailing a cab, Scotland Yard on their minds.

They followed Lestrade down the corridor, ignoring the looks they got, they were used to being regarded as Scotland Yard's resident freak show, and listened to the Detective Inspector as he spoke.

"So that explosion near your flat-" He asked flatly.

"Hmm, gas leak right?" Sherlock said.

"No actually it seems it wasn't. You see all that was left was a strong box… a _very _strong box, this was inside it." He handed them an envelope with 'Sherlock Holmes' written on it,

"We've scanned it it's not rigged." He said firmly.

"How reassuring." Sherlock said sarcastically. He handed the envelope to Charlie who flipped it casually in her hands.

"What do you see?" He asked as she looked at it.

"Nice handwriting. It was definitely a she judging by the form, nibbed pen and probably Parker judging by the ink..." She said smoothly. Sherlock nodded.

"Veridian nib, Bohemian stationary." She said and handed it back to him carefully. He opened the envelope and out fell a brand new iPhone, pink and shiny. Al four stared at it in shock.

"That's the phone from the cabbie case." John said and Charlie nodded.

"What a Study In Pink?" Lestrade asked and Charlie couldn't help but laugh at the distasteful look on Sherlock's face.

"Hear that Sherlock? He's read the blog." John said proudly.

"We've all read it. Did you really not know that the Earth goes round the Sun?" Lestrade asked primly and Sherlock ignored him sternly, examining the phone.

"It's not the same phone, someone's gone to great lengths to make it look like it though..." He said distantly. He touched the screen. It came alive and Charlie leaned closer to listen. He breathed in her scent and an odd picture formed in his mind as he did so. Tangled sheets, moving bodies and a whispered phrase. He shook his head and tried to focus… damn his imagination.

"_One new message – Beep,Beep,Beep,Beep,Beep..."_

A picture of a shabby looking flat showed up on the screen. Charlie's eyes widened slightly.

"Oh shit." She murmured and put her hands on her hips.

"What?" Lestrade demanded and she looked up at him.

"I know this code. It's an ancient method of threatening people." She said and Sherlock noded.

"Some would send dried melon seeds, orange pips..." he finished and she nodded at him unhappily.

"It's going to happen again." Sherlock said firmly and suddenly Charlie's knees trembled and she slumped down against the wall behind her, looking as if someone had suddenly knocked the wind from her. Sherlock looked over at her in shock and instantly crouched beside her

"Charlotte?" He demanded and she looked up at him weakly.

"Sherlock I know that place, on the phone. That's the flat below Aunty Em's! What if they blow her up? This can't be happening." She muttered and covered her face with her hands.

"Charlie!" he yelled and she looked up at him in shock, as did the rest of Scotland Yard. Her enormous green orbs were wide with panic. He placed a hand on her shoulder and gently tugged her to her feet. She stood and leaned against him.

"Do you honestly think I'm going to let them, whoever they are, blow up your aunt?" He demanded and she frowned.

"You better bloody well not." She growled and he grinned.

"Focus please, you're of no use when you're panicking." He commanded and she nodded, taking a few steadying breaths.

"Sorry to interrupt your little moment but what exactly is going to happen again?" A familiar voice called from beside them and the pair turned to see a smirking Donovan looking in on the room.

"BOOM!" Sherlock said before gently grasping Charlie by the arm. He inwardly smiled when she slid her hand into the crook of his arm and followed without complaint.

"Come on John, Lestrade." He yelled over his shoulder.

Donovan POV: 

Sally watched them go. Her eyes were wide when they fell on the contact between the freak and that poor girl. In all her years knowing the annoying detective she'd never seen him make any sort of contact towards another person let alone a woman… many had believed him, at best, gay and, at worst, asexual. She cocked a brow at a female college who smirked at her in return.

"Since when did he do physical contact? Dimmock's probably right, I bet they're shagging." She said and the woman titled her ehad to look after the couple.

"Maybe… if it weren't a fact that that man has probably never shagged a woman in his life I'd believe you. That poor girl." She murmured and Sally nodded.

"Yeah, poor girl." She muttered and sat down at her desk to file yet another report.

Charlie POV:

They burst into their home and knocked on Aunty Em's door. A few seconds later her aunt appeared and opened the door. She smiled at her niece and then frowned at the sight of Lestrade behind her… she'd never fully forgiven the man for his previous invasion of her home.

"Aunty Em?" Charlie asked and the woman looked back at her.

"Oh Charlie dear, what's the matter sweetheart? You look more than a little flustered, if it's that boy again it's going straight to his rent." She said sternly and Charlie cracked a small smile despite the situation.

"Can we have the key to that flat?" She gestured with her finger.

"We need to have a look inside."

Her aunt nodded and handed her the key. Charlie grasped it and turned away. She walked to the door and quickly unlocked both locks, throwing the door open.

"Thanks Aunty Em!" She called over her shoulder before she disappeared inside, followed by the three men.

Translations

Slat – Prick

Cac – Shit

_Go raibh maith agaibh – Thank you (for more than one person)_

**Dun dun dun! OMG I've only got a few weeks to go before the next season airs here in Australia! Dear god wish me luck in getting this damn thing done. Reviews are always welcome and I thank each and every one of you for your constant support of these stories. **


	2. Chapter 2

**Two**

**OMG first of all I just want to thank absolutely everyone who the first chapter of this story and sent in wonderful reviews. As you have all informed me the next season has finished in England and is about to start here in Australia so I really want this little sucker to get a wriggle on so all the juicy new gossip can begin and I can once again dazzle and delight my masses. So now onto the show… enjoy!**

Charlie POV:

With only the slightest apprehension the four walked into the apartment and saw...a single pair of rather faded old shoes. Charlie quirked a brow.

"Oh that's anti-climatic." She mused and moved forwards to allow the men a better look.

"He's a bomber remember." John, ever the mouth of caution, said as Sherlock stepped forwards past Charlie and crouched beside the trainers. The entire room seemed to hold their breath as he leaned forwards… the phone in his hand went off. Charlie felt her heart seize slightly within her chest as he pressed the loudspeaker button.

"Hello?" He said darkly and Charlie frowned, perhaps irritability was not the way to go when handling bombing negotiations.

"_H-Hello, s-sexy. I've sent you a little puzzle."_ The voice was that of the woman. She was sobbing as she spoke. Charlie moved forwards and grabbed the phone.

"Why are you crying?" She asked gently and more sobs sounded over the line.

"_I'm not c-crying, I'm typing…" _Came the stunted reply. For a moment there was nothing whilst the poor woman broke down making even Sherlock look slightly worried. She continued though, in a fragile voice.

"_And this stupid b-bitch is reading it out. 12 hours to s-solve my puzzle Sherlock, or I'm going to be so naughty."_ She gave one final sob and the phone went dead. Charlie stared at the pink phone in her hand and then down at the shoes. She slapped it back into Sherlock's hand and gave him a dry smirk.

"You can use the lab at St. Bart's, I'll get you in." She said confidently and turned to leave the apartment, followed closely by the men.

"Please Thalia, it's extremely important." Charlie begged her supervisor causing the older, ex-Australian citizen to sigh.

"I'd feel better about letting that man in if I knew exactly what he would be doing in there." She said worriedly, the thick Aussie accent she hadn't lost during her time in England echoing around the basement level.

"As I said, he's on a case and for all I know involving you could put you in harm's way… please Thalia?" She asked desperately and finally the tall, tanned blonde nodded.

"Use what you want, just clean up after you're done." She commanded and Charlie nodded. She turned and whistled for the boys to hurry up. The two men trouped into the lab as Thalia walked out. She nodded at John and simply quirked a brow at Sherlock who carried a plastic bag in which he'd dumped the sneakers from the flat. Charlie planted herself down in a stool and grabbed a stack of files, she had a feeling Sherlock would be taking his time with this one and while she was at work she might as well do something. John muttered something about coffee and disappear in the direction she pointed towards. Silence fell over the lab.

It was about two hours later whilst he was examining shoe laces and comparing pollen samples on the computer that she finally got bored.

"Anything yet?" She asked and he barely looked up.

"Hmm." He muttered and she sighed pushing the final file into the out tray and standing. That little noise could have meant anything so she decided to make it a no. John sat opposite Sherlock tapping his fingers on the counter top, a cup of stone cold coffee in front of him. Sherlock's phone beeped. He didn't move.

"Can you get that?" He asked and she huffed in annoyance.

"Where is it?" She asked and he shifted slightly.

"Pocket." He said and she rolled her eyes. The lazy son of a bitch.

"Please." He muttered quietly and she was grateful when John seemed to still be lost in his thoughts. She nodded and walked over to where he sat scanning. She reached into the inner lining of his jacket, after a moments appreciation and searching, pulled out his phone. She pressed a few buttons to bring up the message.

"It's Mycroft. He's sent you...eight more texts." She announced amusedly. Sherlock snorted.

"Delete them." He said and John finally came alive.

"They might be important." He said and Sherlock smirked into the computer screen.

"Then why didn't he cancel his dental appointment?" Sherlock demanded sharply and Charlie whacked him lightly on the shoulder. "What?" John asked, confused now. Charlie simply rolled her eyes for the second time in under a minute. She gave John a pitying look.

"Mycroft as far as I can tell never texts if he can talk. Unlike Mr Antisocial over here, the elder Holmes seems to be an excellent conversationalist." She said teasingly and even she wasn't prepared for the slight growl that issued from the consulting detective. She held up her hands in mock surrender and replaced the phone. The door opened behind them and Charlie turned just in time to see Molly enter with a man, a man that she recognised instantly. Her hand was midway through putting Sherlock's phone back in his pocket and she hurriedly ripped it out to take a few stumbling steps towards the newcomers.

"Hi Molly." She called and the brunette smiled brightly. The man grinned at her and Charlie couldn't help but return to mockingly, a raised eyebrow asking him what the hell he was doing here. He shrugged nonchalantly.

"Hi Charlie." Molly said happily and turned to introduce the man to the other men in the room. Charlie cut her off at the quick.

"This is Sherlock Holmes and..."

"John Watson." John said smoothly, waving slightly from his position.

"They're the flatmates I told you about." Charlie continued and once again her cousin grinned.

"Sherlock this is Jim, he works in IT upstairs, office romance." Molly giggled slightly and Sherlock looked up momentarily and then back down at his work, only to pause and look up again. His expression morphed into one of shock when he stared between Charlie and Jim who wore identical grins. Finally she could stand it no more.

"I believe we already knew that, Jim is my cousin." Charlie announced and Molly faulted slightly, looking over at Jim questioningly. He nodded and walked forwards to wrap his arms around Charlie. She embraced him tightly and stepped back… to punch him hard on the arm. He looked wounded.

"What was that for?" He asked, his hazy Irish-American accent sounding quaint in the still lab air. She frowned.

"Francis." She said simply and turned away.

"Gay." Sherlock announced suddenly. Charlie paused and then kicked him violently on the shin beneath the table. He glared at her before returning his attention back to his work.

"What?" Molly demanded.

"Hey." He said somewhat unconvincingly, smiling at Jim. The other man simply stood there smiling. Charlie thought he looked a little tired but otherwise exactly the same as when she'd last seen him.

"So you're Sherlock Holmes! Molly's told me all about you! Are you on one of your cases then?" He asked and when Sherlock didn't answer Charlie nodded. Jim walked over and 'tripped', slipping his number under a silver dish. Her eyes flashed wide but she wisely said nothing, letting the moment pass. He was her cousin, her only remaining family and if that was his preference than she wouldn't spurn him. It was however too bad Sherlock didn't bat for that team, she thought with a satisfied smirk.

"Well I'd best be off then, see you at the Fox tonight Molls?" He asked and she nodded.

"It was nice meeting you." He called over his shoulder before blowing a kiss at Charlie who smiled and waved him away. Sherlock didn't answer again, John spoke for him.

"You too." Jim turned and left.

"_Go n-éirí leat a col ceathrar_." He called over his shoulder and she smiled.

"_Go n-eiri leat a col ceathrar. Ta gra agam duit_." She returned. The moment he was gone Molly glared at Sherlock.

"What do you mean gay? He's not gay! We're together!" She screamed and he simply sighed.

"With that level of personal grooming?" He demanded.

"So he uses product in his hair? I do that!" John said defiantly, noting that Charlie had suddenly become very quiet. The woman in turn simply sat down and pretended this conversation wasn't happening, staring at the computer screen determinately.

"You wash your hair, no he had tinted eyebrows, touring finger around the frown lines...then there's his underwear." Sherlock continued.

"Underwear?" Molly demanded sharply.

"Visible, highly visible, very particular brand. That and the highly suggestive fact that he just left his number under this dish," He removed said number with a flourish. At this point Charlie was wishing he'd shut up and go die in a hole.

"So I suggest you break it off and save yourself the pain." He finished smugly making Molly storm out of the room in tears. Sherlock shrugged and turned back to the computer only to find Charlie staring at him angrily. She slapped him hard across the face, leaving an angry red mark. He stared at her in shock, his hand rising to the mark instinctively.

"Sherlock! There are times when you don't know when to shut the fuck up!" She said steely and he scoffed, the glare in his cold blue eyes making her want to cry.

"Oh don't give me that, you knew he was gay." He said and she flinched.

"Yes Sherlock, I knew he was gay! However there are times and places for revealing private information about a person's partner and that was certainly not it. Do you have no consideration at all for Molly's feelings or are you so wound up in being right all the time that you forget about the rest of us mortals?" She said calmly but furiously, her own glare making him shrink back slightly. They glared at each other until the computer beeped and their gazes shot to the screen.

"He was from Sussex." She said tightly and sat back down on her stool without another word.

"John look at the shoes, what do you think?" Sherlock asked and the ex-military doctor looked between his two friends tensely before answering.

"I'm not going to make an idiot of myself. Ask Charlie." He said and the female smirked slightly but shook her head, indicating for him to give it a go.

"Come on John, I can't hold your hand all the time." She said.

"That's never stopped you before." He muttered and sighed when Sherlock simply pointed towards the shoes. John picked one up and began to observe it slowly.

"Well it's very eighties...maybe one of those retro brands? Adult sizing...but there's felt tip on the inside, adults don't write their names on their shoes." He said slowly and Charlie grinned at his try, only to frown when hserlock cut him short.

"Well you're on sparkling form. You got almost everything wrong of course but it was a good try. Charlotte, analyse the shoe if you will." He commanded and she rolled her eyes.

"That was a good try John; you were at least right about the felt pen… hang on." She said and whipped out her phone to begin typing something in before nodding to herself. She bit her lip.

"Limited edition two blue stripes, 1989. They've been whitened and the person who owned them had eczema. There are traces of a name..." She said but try as she might she could not read the smeared name. She squinted a little more, her eyes widened as she dropped the shoe on to the surface of the table with an audible 'thunk'.

"Charlotte, are you okay?" Sherlock asked stiffly, still obviously smarting from the slap she'd given him.

"Carl Powers." She whispered and felt him stiffen beside her.

"What?" John asked.

Sherlock POV:

Sherlock couldn't believe it. Carl Powers. How hadn't he seen it sooner? The mark on his cheek was still stinging slightly but the pain was actually refreshing in the way it kept his mind from straying too much while he worked. Charlotte was still staring at the dropped shoes in shock.

"A boy had a fit in a pool. I remember knowing something was wrong. No one believed me… I had just survived major surgery after a fatal collision with a semi-trailer and everyone thought I was still in shock." She said stiffly and Sherlock looked over again and saw the tear roll down from her eye. He hated it when she cried. Ignoring the fight they'd had earlier he leaned closer to touch her cheek lightly. Her eyes were wide but there was something else in those depths, something that looked incredibly like… guilt. What would she have to feel guilty about?

"Let's go, we've done everything we can now." He said swiftly and stood, drawing her along behind him as he vacated the now silent lab.

John POV: Haven't had one of these in a while 

As the trio sat in a taxi John realised just how perceptive his friends were. Sherlock had been fourteen and Charlotte ten, already brilliant at this detective work and confident in their knowledge that it was murder. For God's sake Sherlock had even noticed the lack of the boy's _shoes_!

"You started young didn't you?" He asked and Charlotte nodded.

"Yes. Francis and I were shipped all around the foster care system before we finally settled with the Karen and Timothy. All that travelling time never really let me get close to any one my own age so I simply divulged into what I was good at… solving puzzles." She said sadly and turned her attention out the window.

"I'd only heard about this one in the papers… I was in Essex at the time." She recalled with a bitter smile, obviously lost in memories.

"So the killer kept the shoes all these years?" John asked and the two nodded.

"He started young too." Charlotte said stiffly and her hands clenched, the knuckles glowing white in the dim of the cab. John watched in amusement as his friend slipped an unconscious hand forwards to grasp it. The pair seemed to instantly relax. Dear God, why hadn't he seen it before… Sherlock was attempting a reassuring smile and as he watched John could see Charlotte's returned expression seemed to take years away from her face. Her eyes lit up from within and the shallow lines around her eyes faded away. Her features literally glowed and he could see Sherlock was struck as well by the change. She looked much prettier when she smiled. He knew his friend found her attractive but whether or not the pair of idiots did something about it was another story altogether. He would be there to say he told them so.

Sherlock POV:

They dissected the shoe and pinned it on a makeshift washing line in the kitchen. As he stared at the case study wall Charlotte and John simultaneously pulled their phones from their pockets. He turned to look at them and she held up a thin finger as she eyed the screen. He peered over his shoulder and nearly gagged on his tongue.

_Charlotte,_

_I am convinced that my brother is purposely ignoring my messages. If it is not too much to ask of you I would appreciate it if you would you remind him that the case I have informed him of is of national importance. I do not wish to intrude and apologise for any inconvenience._

_I hope you are well,_

_Mycroft Holmes._

She was smiling at the Mycroft's text message. He smirked at the fact that the damn things were written like formal invitations to the Queen, shrouded in his brother's infamous bullshit/manners. However his smirk was wiped off when he saw her reply.

_Mycroft,_

_I am unsure of how you managed to get this number (personally I do not care as long as it remains confidential) however seeing as you have asked so nicely I will remind him of your case as soon as time will allow. _

_Regards,_

_Charlotte Myers. _

Sherlock noticed her smile as she pressed send and look up at him. Her eyes clouded over and she shrugged nonchalantly as she returned the phone to her pocket.

"What was that?" He asked stiffly and she rolled her eyes.

"Your brother is texting us now. He asks to remind you that the Bruce/Parkington case is of national importance." She informed him and smiled as she turned to face the wall, firmly dismissing the matter and his obvious frown.

"How did he get my number? How did he get yours?" John asked and Charlie simply chuckled.

"Well he's related to Sherlock, John." She said and the man nodded, tapping himself mockingly upon the forehead in a 'duh' kind of way. Sherlock frowned.

"I would appreciate it if the pair of you didn't place me in the same boat at him." Sherlock said and Charlie saluted half-heartedly, that smile still on her face. John just shrugged. Sherlock scowled. How dare she smile at _Mycroft's _texts. She never smiled at his. Damn. Whenever he sent her one, he'd often get a reply telling him to –insert own word here- off or to look behind the fridge. Granted that had only been since he placed a nest full of spiders under her bed for an experiment of adrenalin but still… smiling? At Mycrofts texts? He looked over at the mirror on the wall and the angle caught the small mark on the base of his neck he'd been puzzling over since he'd first seen it. It had seemed to be a bite mark and yet, he couldn't remember anyone coming close enough to bite him there. Shaking his head to clear his thoughts he focused on what John was trying to say to him.

"Sherlock?" John asked pointedly and he sighed.

"I'm putting my best workers on Mycroft's case right now." He said and John looked relieved.

"Who are they?" He asked and Sherlock grinned. He indicated to the door. Charlotte sighed and grabbed her coat.

"You owe me big for this." She said and he smiled.

"How about a round of drink's next time we go out?" He teased and enjoyed the small flush it brought to her too pale cheeks just a little too much. He loved it when she blushed.

John POV:

He led them into the office and Charlotte smiled. Mycroft was seated at his desk and looked up at them expectantly.

"I'm sorry Sherlock couldn't be here, you know him. Fortunately you got the next best thing." She said confidently and sat down opposite him. John followed her lead, eager to be out of this place as soon as possible. Mycroft smiled slightly and nodded as she pulled out a notepad. She frowned at the page before looking up at Sherlock's brother irritably.

"So if you could just give us some more background info on the dead man?" John said as Charlotte nodded, clicking her pen. Mycroft nodded, looking relieved that some investigation was going to take place.

"27, Clerk at Vauxhall Cross, MI6. Involved in the program in a minor way, security checks a-okay, no known terrorist affiliations or sympathies, last seen by his fiancé at 10:30 yesterday evening. Found on the tracks of Battersea but didn't buy a ticket. Is that enough for now?" He said softly and Charlotte smiled as she finished writing.

"Thank you Mycroft. If this new case we've got going doesn't kill us than we'll try to get back to you as soon as we can." She said seriously and stood. Mycroft looked slightly peeved.

"National security Miss Myers." He reminded her and she shrugged.

"Mr. Holmes I'm a foster care survivor, trust me when I say that my care package for nation security dried up a long time ago." She said smartly and John coughed. She looked over at him and he frowned at her intensely. She sighed and rolled her eyes.

"Apologies Mycroft. John come on." She said stiffly and stood to walk to the door. Suddenly she stoped. She walked over to where Mycroft sat and extended her hand. He glanced at it for a long moment before extending his own and shaking it firmly. She grinned and it seemed any harboured misgivings she'd had about him were wiped away.

"Take care and I hope your mouth feels better soon." She said before walking out. John stood after a moment and nodded politely. Mycroft, who was still staring after his flat mate simply waved him away.

"Send my regards to...whatever her name is today."

"Andromeda." Came the instant reply and he smiled.

"Good day Mycroft." As they sat in the taxi Charlotte checked the watch on her right wrist and sighed. 3 hours left.

Sherlock POV:

Sherlock was crouched over a microscope when they got back. He could hear Charlotte's shoes clacking softly on the stairs as she and John mounted them. Her aunt was bustling around the kitchen in an annoying way. As the pair walked in he suddenly made the connection to the shoes and joy rushed through him.

"Poison!" He shouted and sent the flustered Mrs Hudson out of the room as he leapt upright. Charlotte walked in a quirked an eyebrow at his cheerful expression.

"Sherlock, we've talked about this… what have I always told you about spontaneous outbursts about various methods of murder?" She teased as she leant against the fridge door, checking it momentarily to test the saliva of the head inside. He looked questioningly and she gave him the thumbs up. Strike two for the greatest consulting detective in the world!

"Clostridium botulinum! The deadliest poison on the face of the Earth! It was simple; the killer introduced it into his eczema cream!" Sherlock said happily and sat down to type furiously on his blog. He felt her come up behind him and her hands rested lightly on his shoulders as she read the import.

"What are you doing?" She asked curiously.

"Putting it on the blog, let the killer know, stop the clock." He announced and she 'oh'ed appreciatively. Not two seconds after pressing send the pink phone on the desk rang. Her could still feel her hands on his shoulders as he pressed loud speaker and they waited with bated breath.

"Hello?"

"Well...d-done. C-come and g-get me." The woman said tearfully and he felt Charlotte relax, her fingers giving his tense muscles a squeeze. He supressed a groan at the sensation and fought to keep his cool. After they hung up the phone Charlotte leaned in close to his ear.

"All your _cac _is forgiven. Well done Sherlock." She whispered and he sighed. Another squeeze on his shoulders and she was gone. He stared after her, wondering why he felt the urge to call her back and kiss her senseless. Shaking his head he waited… there were more beeps to go yet. He glanced once more towards Charlotte only to find John standing in the door way smirking.

"Shut up." He said and the man raised his hands in surrender.

"I never said anything." He supplied logically and Sherlock felt his urge change to a more violent spectrum. John smiled and shoved his hands into his pockets as he walked to the fridge, via the laptop, and opened it. He didn't jump or scream at the head again but sighed and pulled out the milk.

"When are y-…"

"Don't go there." Sherlock cut in and John smirk broadened.

"As I was going to say… when are you going to head down to the station, those beeps are still forthcoming and you know it." He said and Sherlock quirked an eyebrow.

"I'm not just a pretty face you know, got to at least try to keep up with you two geniuses." He said and a faint sound could be heard from the depths of the apartment. Sherlock stood and walked to the door, John behind him. A moment later Charlotte appeared looking a little tired and worried. She glanced up at them and smiled.

"Let's go, Lestrade's going to have apoplexy when he realises I'm not there yet." She said and the two men chuckled. They trouped out of the apartment and hailed a cab.

They stood around in Scotland Yard not half an hour later, half the force watching the exchange.

"The woman was attacked by masked men, driven to a car park and decked out in enough explosives to take down a house!" Lestrade explained and Charlotte nodded.

"Where's she from?" She asked, surveying the room with distain.

"Cornwall apparently." The DI said and she nodded.

"Why is he doing this?" Lestrade asked, rubbing his eyebrows wearily.

"Well I can't be the only person in the world who gets bored." Sherlock said and Charlotte smiled.

"True but hopefully you're the only one that fires an abstract smilie face into a wall with a pistol." She said smartly and he glared at her. She simply rolled her eyes are tried to focus. He rolled his eyes in return and the phone beeped. He looked down at the surface and frowned.

"It's a slide show." He said confusedly.

"Plug it in to the mainframe." Lestrade ordered and he did. A message appeared on the screen.

_Well, well, well. Aren't you a clever boy?_

The text rolled across the screen.

_Now for a special treat. A step in to the past._

Confused looks were thrown around the room as a video began to roll.

"_Session 1,090, Dr. Simon Kelsey with Patient 240057. Alright Miss Myers… how are you feeling today?" A calm, scholastic voice asked from off screen as it brightened to reveal a much younger Charlotte. Her hair was significantly longer, her eyes were huge in her teenage face with massive circles beneath them and the bones of her features stuck out sorely in the whitewash video room. _

Sherlock went rigid with horror. No, they couldn't do this to her. He could feel Charlotte going stiff with shock and terror.

"No, please no." She begged quietly and turning he saw her burying her face into her hands.

"_Miss Myers you've been a patient at this facility for almost three years… in all this time you have never admitted anything in these sessions worth evaluation." The doctor continued and the video Charlotte rolled her eyes boredly. She fixed whoever it was behind the screen with a glare that would have split the bastard in half if it were made of steel. _

"_Perhaps Doctor, that's because there is nothing to say worth evaluating. Let's be serious, I do not belong here." She said calmly but with the air of someone who'd said this same line repetitively but to no avail. She shifted in the chair and a chink of metal could be heard. Lazily she rested in her chair. _

"_Let's start with your family." The doctor said and a thin crimson eyebrow was raised. _

"_Which one, the dead one or the psychos that put me in this hell hole?" She asked spitefully and the man chuckled. _

"_Your choice." He said but she buttoned up. _

"_I hear you brother Francis isn't doing well… in your last call to him you were speaking about his 'issues' do you worry about him Miss Myers?" The Doctor asked and Charlotte's lips twitched slightly. _

"_Oh course, he's my brother." She said and the doctor kept going. _

"_Yes but you're in here, recovering… surely it would be more beneficial for you to let your parnets look out for him." The man said and Charlotte snorted. _

"_That drunk bitch I'm supposed to call mother wouldn't know where Francis was if he stood in front of her." She said tartly and stared down into her lap._

"_Miss Myers your mother put you in here for your protection…"  
>"She put me in here because she couldn't control me!" Charlotte yelled suddenly. <em>

"_She put me in here because she too damn drunk to know which way is up at the best of times and it's too much responsibility to look out for a 15 year old with sociopathic tendencies!" She screamed and tried to stand. _

"_You sit there with that smug smirk and think you know everything but you don't know a bloody thing!" She yelled and struggled again her restraints. _

"_Security!" The doctor called calmly. Charlotte began to scream as two men came into the room. _

Beside Sherlock Charlotte had begun to shake violently. Her face was alive with horror as she stared into the screen. The people in the room were all looking between her and the images, their faces alight with curiousity at best and amusement at worst. She stared up at Sherlock and her eyes were full of tears.

"Make it stop Sherlock. Please make it stop!" she begged as the screaming got louder.

"Stop it Letsrade!" He bellowed and the DI jumped.

"You know I can't, it might impede evidence." He said but his mouth was drawn tight and he too was staring at Charlotte in glorified horror.

"I'm sorry." He muttered and turned away. Sherlock scowled and crouched down beside a now almost catatonic Charlotte who was leaning back against the desk, her head in her arms. He put an arm around her shoulders and she instinctively leant against him.

"Thank you." She murmured and he sighed, holding her closer.

_The guards were taking her away and she was spitting and screaming at them all. Her tightly held arms were swinging unrelentingly until a jab to the neck with a sedative sent her out immediately. _

"_Take her back to her room. She's finished for today." The doctor said calmly and the room went silent as Charlotte's limp form was drgged out. _

"_Doctor's note, Patient 240057 displayed violent behaviour again. Mentionings of family and denial of metal incapability furthering her stay at the clinic for another two months… reevaluation inevitable but unlikely to lessen the period, Kelsey out." _

The film stopped and the screen went blank as Sherlock ripped it from the camera wire with a strange growl. He glared at the office workers who quickly turned to begin filing whatever was handy away. Charlotte was helped up and into a chair. He walked over and she looked up at him. She smiled thinly, her eyes strangely puffy and red from her tears. He groaned, it was the second time today she'd been in tears over something involved with this case and hell or high water he was going to solve it for her.

"Charlie, do you have any idea how they got that film?" He asked gently and she shook her head slowly. Lestrade frowned around the room.

"All right everybody out now!" He ordered and the room dispersed rapidly. Charlotte sent him a grateful look which he simply waved off with an apologetic smile. He walked over, handing her a cup of tea.

"I'm sorry Charlotte, I really am." He said and she struggled to smile shakily.

"It's not your fault Lestrade, how could we have known that bastard had those tapes... hell Sherlock didn't even know." She joked lamely and shrugged.

"It's mine." She continued softly and took a small sip of her tea. Sherlock scowled.

"No it bloody well is not." He was about to continue when the phone buzzed again. Four beeps sounded through the now nearly empty room and he showed them the picture, a car.

"I'll run the plate, see if it's missing." Lestrade said and left the trio to it. John was instantly beside her, his arm around her shoulders. She sighed gratefully and returned the hug.

"Thanks John." She said softly and he grinned.

"Heck, you were feisty back then too weren't you?" He said and she chuckled softly.

"I bit him the next time, I was put on probation for nearly a week before I was released." She said with a slight frown.

"I'll never know whether it was because I turned eighteen or because they thought me cured." She mused and looked up as Donavan entered the room. She held the phone out towards Sherlock and pausing to throw a look that could be translated as a pitiful smile towards Charlie.

"It's for you." She said to Sherlock who nodded and grabbed it.

"I see you've stolen a new voice...speak to me in your own voice then..."

Sherlock hung up the phone and John looked up from where he had been sitting beside Charlotte, a hopeful expression on his face.

"Charli- otte, are you okay to keep going?" Sherlock asked pensively and she nodded.

"To be honest I'm pissed off Sherlock. He knows who I am! He has tapes that I'm fairly sure were destroyed in a fire I set a couple years ago… I am still sorry about that." She said bemusedly and shook her head.

"And he's using them to get to you Charlotte, which means he must have knowledge of all of us… specifically you." Sherlock said and she flinched.

"But why me?" She demanded.

"Why the fuck would he want to get to me, I'm no one… my only claim to fame is you and you're a sociopathic consulting detective that I happen to share a flat with." She said quietly. He pretended that last comment hadn't hurt, but it had. He sighed and looked around the small room.

"Well then let's catch this bastard. Because when we do I'm going to break his face." She said bitterly and rubbed her arms as though fighting off a chill. Lestrade walked in, seemingly nervous.

"Car was hired by an Ian Monkford. Paid in cash. It's been found by the river." Lestrade said breathlessly and Sherlock looked over at Charlotte. She smiled and stood; all traces of her past distress gone as she straightened her clothes and headed to the door. She paused and looked back at them from the door.

"Coming?" She asked primly and they scrambled after her.

Translations

_Go n-éirí leat a col ceathrar- Farewell my cousin (as in the first cousin)_

_Cac- Shit (do not use this and then say you got it from me please)_

**Hurray another one bites the dust! Keep those reviews coming and I'll be sure to keep the updates frequent as possible. Love to all. **


	3. Chapter 3

**Three**

**OMG I am sooooooooo sorry guys, it's been hectic trying to get this next chapter up and running; internet crashed, school started back up and the new series of Sherlock FINALLY turned up here in Aust. So yeah no really good excuses but it's all I got. Here it is and I hope you like it. **

Charlie POV:

After a rather tense taxi ride through central London, whereby Charlie steadily avoided the glances sent her way via her male companions, they arrived at the crime scene. The whole trip had been silent and awkward and as she stepped out of the car a dizzy spell hit her with all the force of a train. She stumbled and would have fallen had Sherlock not grabbed a hold of her arm. The spell passed and she nodded gratefully, ignoring his semi-amused expression as Donovan sauntered over to them.

"Still hanging around him then?" She called out to John who rolled his eye playfully at Charlie.

"You guys should get yourselves a hobby. Stamps maybe, model trains...much safer." She continued and Charlie smirked. Ignoring the annoying sergeant they went to look at the car. A large patchwork of blood was spread across the seats and Charlie worried slightly over the likelihood of discovering a person who'd lost that much blood alive. Blowing on her hands loudly she stepped around the car looking for any clues in an obvious manner while Sherlock slipped something from the car pocket into his own. He nodded to her and she turned to lean against the hood of a standing police car while he and John went off to talk to Monkford's wife who stood some twenty paces away. As she waited Donovan wandered over again.

"You all right?" She asked and Charlie staggered slightly. She looked over at the other woman incredulously and Sally shifted uncomfortably.

"I've been better." She answered truthfully and Sally nodded.

"He likes you, you know the f-Holmes." She said stiffly and Charlie snorted.

"He's a high functioning sociopath… he doesn't know how to care, at least not in the same way you or I would." She said and even she could detect the disappointed note in her voice.

"He's a good man beneath the pompous git everybody else sees; you just have to bear with the childish pranks and prickish attitude." Charlie said softly and looked over at Sally who smiled slightly. The woman obviously wasn't going to change her mind about Sherlock Holmes any time soon, hell she probably didn't even like her all that much, however Charlie felt a little of the tension that had built up over the last few months ease somewhat.

"This doesn't make us friends you know." Sally pointed out and Charlie smirked smugly.

"Oh I know. Just not enemies right?." She quipped and pushed off the bonnet. Sherlock and John wandered over and she quirked an eyebrow at them.

"Well?" She asked and Sherlock sighed melodramatically. Charlie smacked him lightly on the arm and he smirked.

"She talked about him in the past tense. He was depressed for months and _very_ organised. Come on Charlotte, John, we have places to be!" He said and she rolled her eyes. She could feel Donovan watching there retreating figures and shook her head. If only they knew.

The card Sherlock had managed to snag from the crime scene was battered, the first letter of the name hardly visible but between them they managed to figure out that the car dealership did not in fact deal in proctology as she had previously thought. John sniggered lightly in the corner and even Sherlock shook his head amusedly as they arrived. Plastered a perfected trio of poker faces onto their visages they approached the manager and the game began.

"Yeah, he came by it recently. Nice car, Mazda. Wouldn't mind owning one of them myself." Mr Ewitt said cheerfully and Charlie fluttered her lashes subtly and pointed to the photos on the wall behind him. Having been landed with the role of 'brainless female' (which she had fought against valiantly until the end) she pulled the Grammy award winning performance of her life and said...

"Is that one?" He turned to look and Sherlock checked his collar.

_You owe me big. _She mouthed at him and he rolled his eyes.

"No those are all Jags, I can see you're not a car person." Ewiit said and leered at her as she shrugged, unbuttoning her jacket and leaning forwards to smile at him.

"Not really." She said simperingly and he grinned.

"Did you have a nice holiday Mr Ewitt? You look tanned." Sherlock spoke and Charlie was slightly amused at the gravel in his voice.

"No this is tanning beds I'm afraid, can't afford a holiday. My wife would love one though." Ewitt sighed and sat down.

"Sorry to bother you but do you have any change for the cigarette machine? I just saw one outside and I'm _gasping._" Sherlock asked , brandishing a fiver. Mr Ewitt opened his wallet obligingly and shook his head apologetically.

"Nope sorry mate."

"Well thank you for your time Mr Ewitt." Charlie said and they filed out. They made it about a quarter of the way down the corridor before she collapsed against the wall in hysterics. She rested there for a few moments until the laughter subsided a little before pushing herself away. John looked rather alarmed as she spun on Sherlock and shook her head.

"Honestly Shirley the things I bloody to for you… _Is that one? _It makes me sound like Barbie Thomas in 7th grade." She said and Sherlock scowled.

"What did you get?" John demanded before the consulting detective could retort and he straightened importantly.

"Mr Ewitt's a liar. Taxi!"

"Can we just stop at the chemist for a second, I need some aspirin for this headache." Charlie asked and Sherlock nodded. The taxi pulled over and the two men waited as she hoped out and ran to the drug store. She pulled over one of the female attendants and rattled off her symptoms and waited while the woman went away. Presently she returned and handed Charlie a small box that made her face go white.

"Thank you." She said tightly before shoving it roughly into her coat pocket.

"_Cac."_ She muttered before rejoining the men back in the cab. She didn't say anything for the rest of the trip.

Charlie made Sherlock wait outside the lab whilst she went inside to talk up Molly. When questioned she simply stared at him pointedly until John coughed a poor answer, reminding him of the 'gay' moment from earlier.

"Hi Molly, do you mind if we use the lab quickly?" She asked the sad looking brunette.

"Will Sherlock be there?" She asked and Charlie grimaced.

"Unfortunately for us poor females right? He wants to test some blood samples and it shouldn't take more than ten minutes." She said and Molly stared at the wall blankly before nodding sadly.

"Molly?" Charlie said firmly and the younger woman looked up at her. "I'm so sorry about Sherlock, he honestly can't help it. I hope it hasn't spoiled anything between you and Jim and if it helps at all I slapped him for being horrid." That brought a smile to Molly's face and the two of them laughed.

"You can use the lab if you want."

"Thank you!"

It had been almost an hour in the lab and Sherlock was just dropping something onto a petri dish full of blood, making it fizz when Charlie walked in and handed him and John a coffee. She had declined one herself and was content to simply watch them, staring at the fizzing blood sample curiously. This crime was getting weirder and weirder, something was off about the blood but she could place what. The pink phone rang suddenly and she jumped while Sherlock picked it up.

"Hello?...why would you be giving me a clue..." He asked and waited. He then put the phone down. Charlie picked it up and considered it questioningly.

"Charlotte, what do you know about Janus?" He asked and Charlie rolled her eyes at the nick name before answering instantly.

"Wasn't he supposedly a God with two faces?" She asked and he nodded. John piped up from his seat.

"Why do you ask?"

"The clue is in the name...we have to tell Lestrade." Sherlock said and grabbed his coat. Charlie moved carefully after them, shaking her head bemusedly. They found themselves in the room where the car was being stored with Lestrade looking at them expectantly.

"Well?" He asked and Charlie smiled at him indulgently.

"How much blood would you say was on the seats?" Sherlock asked.

"About a pint." John said and Charlie smirked.

"Why?"

"It was a pint exactly, their first mistake." Sherlock continued and Charlie came to stand beside him.

"I had these two check the man's medical records. He gave a pint of blood recently. I tested the blood on the seats, it's been frozen. I'm willing to bet that they spread that pint of blood he had given onto the seats." Sherlock said smartly and Charlie sighed tiredly, thrusting her hands into her jacket pockets.

"So he's not dead?" Lestrade asked and she shook her.

"No." She said and smiled.

"The clue is in the name, Janus cars. The two faced god. You need your problems solving and Janus cars will help you disappear." She said softly and let Sherlock have his reign.

"Mr Ewitt had a tan line around his neck – no one wears a shirt on a sun bed – he also kept scratching his arm. Most likely because he had recently had a booster jab. Hep B probably, hard to tell from that distance." He said accordingly.

"So where is Monkford now?" Lestrade asked.

"Columbia."

"Colum- please tell me you're not just making this up!" He demanded.

"He had a Columbian peso note in his wallet, quite a bit of change too. So he's just been abroad helping Monkford settle into his new life in Columbia. Case closed." Sherlock said smugly. The three stooges then began to walk away, Sherlock with a spring in his step.

"I am on FIRE!" He yelled happily and Charlie rolled her eyes over at John who shook his head bemusedly. Back at the flat, Sherlock posted the outcome on his blog and not twenty minutes later the stolen voice was safe.

Sherlock POV:

Charlie returned from the bathroom, her face paler than usual but looking happier now than she had all afternoon, the memories of the video recording obviously forgotten. She lowered herself into the seat, sliding her body neatly beside his. Staring around the small café with distaste she sighed and leaned back on the uncomfortable plastic chair.

"Sherlock?" She asked.

"Hmm?"

"Has it occurred to you...?" She began and he smirked.

"Probably." He quipped and she sighed, kicking him lightly as John began to eat the recently prepared dinner. He grinned and she finally looked up at him, a hand coming up to rub her neck and linger there absently.

"Has it occurred to you that the killer is playing some sort of psychological game with you? I mean I've been thinking over the case files I studied for my degrees and...well, it seems likely." She asked and Sherlock smirked.

"Charlotte I didn't believed you cared." He teased and she shook her head tiredly. Her eyebrows creased worriedly and John swallowed.

"Sherlock pay attention, she's got a point." He said and he shrugged nonchalantly,

"So what? Games are fun right?" He said and Charlie stretched, her slim body extending sensuously as she reached her arms above her head. He blinked and busied himself with studying her face again.

"When you are a kid and there's a predictable ending to be had… this isn't a nice game Sherlock and you know it." She said and he met her worried eye evenly.

"Don't you have work to go to?" He asked and she frowned.

"I have the graveyard shift in three hours but I don't even want to go." She said and pulled up short.

"Wow, my job satisfaction just died." She remarked aloud before fixing him with a casual smile.

"How long are you working today?" John asked and she shrugged.

"A few hours, I suppose." She said slowly. The phone on the table between them buzzed and Sherlock snatched it up, opening the text to reveal a picture of a blonde woman wearing far too much lipstick as 3 beeps sounded through the room, earning the trio several annoyed looks. Sherlock frowned at the picture.

"Well that could be anyone! Do women always wear astoundingly bright lipstick?" He asked and Charlie shook her head.

"Only the ones for whom the style fits." She said, mock-sincerely.

"For the rest of us we must simply wear the dulls and commons and worship those whose lips are graced with colour." John snatched the phone from Sherlock as the latter rolled his eyes.

"Well lucky for you two I've been more than a little unemployed."

"John stop speaking in riddles or I may be forced to do something I'll regret."

"Lucky for you I've watched far too much day time telly with your aunt." He said smartly and snatched up the remote controller from the side and flicked on to a show that announced 'Connie Prince found dead in home in London'. On the screen above the notice was the dead woman's face.

"That's her!" Sherlock announced and Charlie sniggered.

"No shit Sherlock." She said and he scowled at her, for some reason that saying sounded annoyingly familiar. He began to flick between the screen and his phone at an alarming rate. Investigations, coronary reports, hospital records and… there we go!

"Charlotte, we need to go and I'm afraid you're not working graveyard shifts tonight." He said and just about pulled her from her seat. She stumbled after him and swore foreignly under her breath. He grinned as he translated the words.

"Why so enthusiastic?" She asked annoyedly as they stepped out onto the street.

"Molly will be inspecting the cadaver! Come on John." He called and John followed them sadly his mind still obviously on the food he'd left behind. Why he even bothered to eat while they were on a case still astounded him, hadn't he already explained the cons of doing so? The phone rang then and Sherlock spoke into the phone as Charlie stared at him, her bottom lip chewed lightly as she did so.

"Hello..."

"_Hello, I have another puzzle for you." _The voice was older and female. "Why are you doing this?." He asked and there was a pause.

"_I like to watch you dance." _The phone disconnected and he put it into his pocket. Charlie stood still and gazed into the street absently. He paused for a moment as well, hailing a taxi as he did so.

Charlie POV:

Charlie signed in and walked to her office, sighing at the enormous pile of paperwork she had to deal with before grabbing the Connie Prince case file (an autopsy had already been conducted) and flicked through it. Sherlock had moaned at Lestrade until he got the body transferred to St. Bart's and now it was her turn to find the clues to this little mystery. She nudged the door of the morgue open and was met by the three men in question, John looking at the body whilst Sherlock and Lestrade argued.

Sherlock POV: 

"I don't see why you want another autopsy!" Lestrade was saying.

"We don't need the autopsy we just need the body." Sherlock returned calmly and Lestrade spluttered. It must be so interesting living in his head, all that white noise going off all the time.

"What?" He asked elegantly and Sherlock rolled his eyes.

"We gave the pretext of an autopsy so I could actually get some real work done around here, Charlotte was kind enough to get the file and will confirm with me when I find you results." He said and Lestrade gave up turning away in disgust.

"Find but this is all on you if this backfires."  
>"It won't." Sherlock said firmly, dismissing the detective and getting down to work. Charlie looked at the file again.<p>

"According to this case file, Connie Prince died two days ago. She was out in the garden and cut her hand on a rusty nail. Tetanus gets into the system and..." She began.

"Good night Vienna." He finished and she nodded distractedly. She eyed the corpse before speaking again, peering closely at the aforementioned limb with avid interest.

"John, look at that cut. Something is wrong with it." She said and John leaned forward to concur.

"Well it's very clean..." He said and she nodded.

"Too clean." Sherlock said as he looked at the case file over Charlie's shoulder.

"The mortician didn't clean the cut." He asked and she shook her head.

"It was made post mortem." He stated and pulled out his phone.

"So the bacteria got into her body another way?" John asked and Sherlock nodded.

"It would seem so." He said and frowned. There was a missing piece here, something obvious and he knew exactly how to get at it. Sherlock began to make his way towards the door. There was so much to do, why were people so slow.

"Hurry up you too." He called over his shoulder and saw Charlie sigh out of the corner of his eye.

"Sherlock?" Lestrade asked and he looked back. The inspector was frowning and it made him look at least ten years older.

"What?" He demanded, halfway through the door.

"Why is the killer doing this? Letting us know about the murders?" Seriously that was what these people worried about? There was a killer on the loose and all they worried about was the why? It's the how that's exciting, more important than the why.

"Good Samaritan." He answered brightly and went to leave.

"Who press-gangs suicide bombers?" Lestrade pointed out and that caused him to shrug.

"Bad Samaritan." That made Charlie giggle slightly but was stopped by Lestrade's firm glare.

"Sherlock this is serious!" He said irritably and Sherlock nodded slowly.

"I know. Come on John! Places to be, people to interview!" He called and the two of them left the morgue. It was a couple of minutes before Charlie emerged from the building her red hair as bright in the dark as it was during the day.

John POV:

John had somehow found himself in the house of Connie Prince's brother. A brother who, it must be added, was sitting uncomfortably close and holding what appeared to be an inside out cat. The thing was ugly, bald and skittish. He inched away as the questions continued. He'd been asking questions for a while and was becoming increasingly desperate. The whole place stank to high heaven of disinfectant and he was certain if he stayed there much longer he'd probably keel over as well.

"Well I just need to make a call." He said weakly.

"Oh by all means do." The man replied, waving his hand. John scurried out, picking up his phone and dialling.

"Hello?" A deep voice a said and he sighed.

"Sherlock I need your help I think I'm on to something. You'll need to pick up some things, have you got a pen?"

"I'll remember."  
>"Well you'll need a camera..." He began.<p>

John was extremely proud with himself as they left the house.

"You think it was the cat? It wasn't the cat." Sherlock said and John felt the elation drain from him. He stopped short.

"Well of course it was! New cat, bit jumpy. The floor cleaner was put on the claws by her brother and entered her bloodstream when it scratched her." He said and Sherlock smirked.

"Raoul kept a clean house, used lots of floor cleaner. You stink of disinfectant even now. No it wasn't her brother." He said and John frowned.

"He killed her for her money." John said and Sherlock shook his head.

"Did he?" The consulting detective said cryptically and it was in that moment John wished Charlie were still with them. With her around someone stood between Sherlock Holmes and the destruction of the human race by the poor sot who happened to be stuck with him. Unfortunately she was at the flat, complaining of a headache. John sighed.

"Well what was it then." He asked and Sherlock brandished his phone.

"Second autopsy results from St. Barts, botulinum toxin. Our killer is repeating himself." He said and they hailed a taxi.

"I though we hadn't done that." He asked and Sherlock frowned.

"Right stupid question really." John said to himself as they went to collect Charlie.

"The killer was Raoul De Santos! He killed Connie using an injection of clostridium botulinum." Sherlock said.

"How?" Lestrade asked, looking over to where Charlie, John and Sherlock had marched in. Sherlock with the St. Bart's autopsy results held high.

"Botox injections are a weakened form of botulinum, he's been bulk ordering it for months. He'd become accustomed to a certain lifestyle and when Connie threatened to ruin that he made sure she died before she did. Case closed." He said and marched into Lestrade's office, opened up his laptop and within twenty seconds was typing his findings into his blog. The phone rang and he picked it up.

"Hello?" He said and John watched his face change. He looked over at Charlie who was watching warily, her feministic senses obviously tingling.

"No...no don't.." He lowered the phone and realisation dawned on them.

"They're dead aren't they?" She whispered calmly and Sherlock nodded.

"She started describing him." He said and Charlie looked at him in shock.

"But…" She began and suddenly her eyes filled and spilled over with tears. She didn't sob like before and seemed shocked herself when she scooped the tears off her face.

"Sherlock I'm tired, let's go home." She said and for once the socially awkward detective didn't argue. He stood and nodded goodbye to Lestrade before guiding her out of the building. She was asleep before they arrived home at 221B Baker St so he simply carried her inside. John followed the pair quietly, wondering if the two smartest people he'd ever know would ever get a clue.

Charlie POV:

When she woke up Charlie knew it was going to be a bad day. There was no logical reason for her assumption, she simply knew it was just going to be one of those days. Wrapped in nothing but her underwear and a sheet, a habit she and Sherlock had both gotten into (although she often suspected he wore less than she did beneath the cloth), she entered the living room. The two men sat in the flat, watching the television as the explosion caused by the latest victim was explained away as a gas explosion. She sat down beside Sherlock and smiled at his look.

"They're all liars in that profession." She said sadly

_"Bastairds." _She muttered as she relaxed into the couch.

"The killer is taking his time this time." Sherlock noted, eyeing the phone. Charlie walked over and picked it up. Sherlock was on his feet in moments but she ignored him.

"Charlotte give it back." He demanded and she frowned.

"Why Sherlock? All this jerk is doing is running us in circles while we listen to some poor bastard get blown up or threatened with the same style of execution… tell me, did you even need the second autopsy to be sure of the poison?"

He sighed. She had her answer but couldn't believe it.

"No but..." He began and she shook her head firmly.

"But nothing! This is all a game to you isn't it?" She shouted and the flat went silent. It wasn't often that Charlie raised her voice and John had cowered into the kitchen. Sherlock didn't speak. John stepped in.

"Sherlock there are lives at stake here! Actual human lives!" He said and his own voice was less than calm. Charlie shot him a quick look and he retreated again.

"So what?" Sherlock asked and Charlie froze suddenly. The phone in her hand tumbled and hit the floor with a loud, echoing bang as she stared at Sherlock in disbelief.

"Sherlock..." She said and her voice had dropped to a delicate whisper.

"What? You expected me to care? Caring doesn't save them Charlotte! Don't make me into a hero because they don't exist and even if they did I wouldn't be one!" He said and her lips tightened ever so slightly. She felt her heart begin to thump loudly and knew if she didn't get out of there right now she was going to cry. She walked over to him and peered into his face carefully. He stared back at her evenly but she caught a glimpse of something, something he would deny ever feeling but she knew she had seen.

"Translate this Sherlock_,__ Is tusa mo laoch_." She said defiantly. Something snapped, she knew she was being stupid and neurotic but she didn't care.

"Well don't care then! If it was me strapped to that bomb, or John, or my Aunt Em would you care then? Of course not! Because apparently you don't care about people at all!" She said and stepped back, the sheet whirling as she went. She stormed out of the room and down the corridor back to her room. Lying on her bed she brought a hand up to her stomach, breathing deeply and trying to calm herself. She hadn't shown this much emotion since her teenage years, so much for the sociopathic tendencies. Through the door she could hear the men talking.

"Why Sherlock? Why do you have to do that to the only person on this god damned planet who actually has the emotional and intellectual capacity to stand your stupid mind games? Someday you're going to upset her so much that she's never going to forgive you and that day you'll have no one but yourself to blame." A wicked idea came to mind and she buried her face back into the pillow and tried to catch a few extra winks. No matter what happened all she had to do was convince herself that she did not care.

Sherlock POV:

Sherlock was getting impatient. The killer still hadn't called, John was reading a book and Charlie had been gone for the best part of half an hour. John stood up to make more tea and finally Sherlock heard something outside the living room. Walking over quietly he peered through the door and saw Charlie making her way back towards him, she spotted him and nodded stiffly. He stepped back and she walked through the door into the living room. John re-entered the room and smiled at her. She grinned and settled down at the table, stead-fastedly ignoring him as she picked up her book and began to flick through it. He sat down on the couch and felt the overwhelming urge to talk to her, to apologise. He opened his mouth.

"Charlotte?" He said and she flicked her hand irritably, as one would a bug or something. .

"Not now Sherlock, I've reached a good part in my book… who knows when I'll get a chance to finish it with this case floating around." She said and he frowned. Out of the corner of his eye he saw John looking at his expertly and felt a sudden rush of anger at the pair of them. If this was how they wanted to do it then it was fine by him, three could play that game. The phone went off and he clicked the screen. Standing he moved to the door and looked back at the pair of them in dismissive scrutiny. He turned away and picked up his scarf and coat before bounding down the stairs and past Mrs. Hudson who smiled and wished him luck. Thank God for Mrs. Hudson.

"John! Charlotte! Hurry up, we have a location!" He said sharply as he hailed a taxi and waited for them to join him. John appeared followed by Charlie who sighed heavily in the chilly morning air and buried her pale fingers into her coat pockets. He was tempted to tell her to pack gloves but then remembered their announcement of war and stopped himself. No matter what happened all he had to do was convince himself that he did not care.

**Translations:**

_**Cac – Shit,**_

_**Bastairds- Bastards**_

_**Is tusa mo laoch- You are my hero. **_


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter Four**

**OMG I'm so sorry for the world's longest wait for an update, I wouldn't be surprised if you all left this story (sob) but here is the latest instalment to my series. I have no real excuse except that life got in the way and writers block is a bitch however I will be eternally grateful to every single one of you who reviewed either this story or my other Sherlock fics. You guys rock so much and I apologise again for not writing this chapter sooner… here we go!**

John POV:

The taxi trip was about as awkward as it ever got between the three of them. John found himself trapped between his two closest friends as they gazed steadfastly out of their respective windows, creating a heavy tension that could've been cut with a butcher's knife. Charlie and Sherlock were ignoring each other. John once again found himself wondering what was wrong with them, being the smartest people he knew didn't mean they weren't complete idiots around each other. Neither of them were talking to each other and neither of them were talking to him. Every so often Charlie would shift in her seat, as though in pain, but no sound escaped her mouth. Each time John felt Sherlock tense as though prepared to turn and ask about it he never did. He was convinced with the utmost certainty that one day the pair would drive each other mad, they needed to bounce off one another or their inhuman minds would simple fall apart. Shaking his head he waited patiently until they eventually arrived at the river bank. Sherlock shot out of the taxi so fast that he appeared to be a blur, leaving John behind to help Charlie from the car. She sighed and John looked over.

"I shouldn't have shouted at him like that." She said quietly, gazing after the dark haired detective.

"He needed to hear it. I think you could have toned down the insults a little though." John replied and she nodded. Groaning she went to stand but fell back against the seat. John stared at her confused until she looked up and him and smiled thinly.

"Just a little fatigued John, nothing for you boys to be worrying about." She replied and both of them could hear the insincerity in her tone. He paid the cabbie in order to avoid the awkward tension between them before guiding her towards the body where Sherlock was looking up and down the river bank.

"I don't see what's wrong with him though. I mean I shout at him loads and he never reacts like this..." She trailed off and John shrugged.

"I mean he did start it, I was just angry… why does this _cac_ always happen to me?" She asked no one in particular and John, feeling useless, shrugged once again. They crowded around the body, Charlie on John's right and Sherlock on his left.

"Any ideas?" Lestrade asked, rubbing his eyes tiredly. Charlie flicked a piece of her flaming red hair out of her eyes and peered closer at the rather obese dead man on the ground.

"Seven so far." Sherlock replied tartly causing Charlie to roll her eyes and pull her jacket tighter around her. It was absolutely freezing on that bank and John could see her gloveless hands shaking slightly in the chilly air. She quirked and eyebrow and peered closer, something he couldn't see apparently catching her attention. Sherlock checked his clothing as John and Charlie examined the corpse itself.

"I'd say he's been dead about 24 hours." Said John, she nodded.

"Asphyxiation." She added, tsking the poor man lightly as she checked him over.

"That Lost Vermeer is a fake." Sherlock announced and Charlie stood suddenly to look at him. For a moment it seemed as if she were about to faint. Her cheeks blanched and her eyes went out of focus momentarily. All three men on the river bank moved instinctively but at the last moment she caught herself and glared at Sherlock quizzically.

"Alright, run this by us Mr Holmes." She said and he smirked thinly and muttered something derogatively beneath his breath. Charlie bristled and John saw her right fist clench momentarily before she relaxed and a scarily calm mask of indifference fell over her. By way of explanation Sherlock decided to go off in another apparently random tangent.

"Have you ever heard of the Golem?" He asked and John, seeing that Charlie was no going to participate in this game, answered.

"The folk story?" He aksed and Sherlock nodded.

"Kind of, he's an extraordinarily large man from East Prussia who chokes his victims much like our unfortunate cadaver over here. And in answer to your obvious confusion earlier it's apparent the man works somewhere a uniform is required. Smart shirt and trousers, made of a hard wearing material and slightly too big – a uniform supplied for him at work then – I check his pockets and..."

"Tickets?" John asked, eyeing the soggy lump in Sherlock's hand.

"Ticket _stubs._ I thought train driver, he does spend a great amount of time sitting down – hence the flabby backside – but the veins on his legs suggest the spends a lot of time walking. The Golem removed any badges or identification but..." He brandished his phone, on the screen on which was a search.

"Alex Woodbridge. He works in the museum where the Vermeer is said to be being revealed. Obviously he knew something about the painting being a fake, someone wasn't happy with that and sent the Golem after him. He failed to turn up at work yesterday morning." He finished with a triumphant sweep of his hands. John was once again amazed at the speed of his friend's mind. Although there was no denying he was a complete and utter jerk you couldn't ignore the fact that he was brilliant, it sort of smacked you in the face with the force of a brick.

"Fantastic!" John said and Charlie turned from where she had been pacing the shoreline distractedly.

"Merry bloody Christmas." She stated sardonically.

"And a Happy New Year!" Finished Lestrade, they all looked at him and Charlie grinned briefly before returning to her lachrymose state. Sherlock grabbed her arm, dragging her towards the road as John followed behind. Obviously annoyed at him she yanked her arm free and marched coldly beside him. A few tense seconds passed before they reached the street and a cab was hailed. Once again they found themselves in another cab and John found himself a necessary referee to his flat mates stupid mind games. Suddenly Sherlock stopped the cab. The gangly detective bolted from the cab with a call of 'Wait here' and walked up to what appeared to John to be a random hobo. He handed her a note and muttered something. The woman nodded and Sherlock ran back towards them.

"What are you doing?" John asked curiously, leaning on the cab door.

"Making an investment...have you got any cash?" Sherlock asked and Charlie nodded. She reached into her purse and pulled out a few notes. She handed them to John who passed them through to Sherlock. There was a taunt moment as the two looked at each other and John was almost convinced that they would make up. Then it passed and Sherlock whirled away to return to the hobo. After that was done Sherlock climbed back in, telling the driver to head for the gallery. He climbed out and without looking at Charlie spoke to John.

"Go and find Woodbridge's flat." He said and slammed the door. Charlie flinched slightly before turning her gaze back out of the window

"What's going on Charlie? He always takes you with him!"

She shrugged as John gave the address to the cabbie.

"It's all a game to him John, it always has been." She said and John was startled to hear her tone entirely blank of all emotion. It was a voice he had heard before, from the video tape Moriarty had sent them, and gazing at her now he began to curse internally. They arrived at Alex Woodbridge's flat and were welcomed in by a rather teary woman in a flowery shirt.

"So you just want a look in his room? You with the police?" HSe asked and Charlie stepped forward with a badge in her hand.

"Yes mam, can you take us to his room please?" She asked and the woman nodded. Carefully Charlie pocketed the stolen ID and followed her upstairs.

"We shared a flat...just shared mind you. Cheaper this way." She said and Charlie nodded.

"He was a nice guy Alex, I liked him. Not one for hoovering though." She poked the dusty carpet with her slipper and laughed quietly. Charlie stared around the room and John began to ask the questions.

"Bit of a star gazer was he?" He asked and she nodded.

"Oh yeah, mad about it. The museum was just a job you know, he loved this. Sometimes he'd stay up all night...oh he got a bit of a funny phone message the other day, would that help?" She asked and the pair nodded. The woman came back in and pressed the button.

"_Is it on?...oh...Alex love it's Professor Kenz. You were bloody right! Call me when you can, this is huge!"_

Then the line went dead. Silence reigned in the apartment.

"Professor Kenz?" John asked and the woman shrugged.

"I don't know her." She said and Charlie piped up again.

"Can we get that number?"

"We'll I've had other calls since...you know, sympathy calls. Sorry." The woman said and Charlie shrugged. At that precise moment both their phones went off. They looked down to see Mycroft's wonderful initials on their screens.

_Have you spoken to West's fiancée yet? MH_

"Well thank you for your help." John said. The pair turned and left the apartment. They hailed another cab, adding on to the ever growing amount they spent on transport, and gave them the address before sitting down.

"John do you still have Sarah's number?" Charlie asked and John started at the abrupt change in topic.

"Yes… why?" He asked and Charlie smiled softly.

"Can I have it, I gave her something a while back and I need it now." She said and John nodded. Flicking through his phone till he came to the number. Thanking him she copied it into her phone and then sat back against the seat. After a few minutes her weight shifted again and John couldn't help himself.

"Charlie honestly what is the matter?" He asked and she looked over at him calculatingly.

"Nothing." She said tensely and John frowned at her. She went to turn away but he stopped her.

"If it's this whole thing with Sherlock I'll shoot him." John threatened lightly and she sighed heavily.

"Oh John, you can't just run around shooting people who upset me." She pointed out and he smiled.

"Just watch me, if anyone man or woman upsets you can bet any price they'll bite my bullet one day. However that is beside the point, and you know it. What is the matter Charlie?" He asked and she sighed. She shook her head sadly and just leaned her head on his shoulder. John sighed and wrapped an arm around her shoulder.

"You'll find out eventually John…" She said and stared out of the window until they approached

"Don't you worry about any Charlie, things will get better. Sherlock's just being…well Sherlock and he's just being an idiot." He joked. She chuckled to herself.

"What did I ever do to deserve a friend like you John?"

"Well you didn't tell anyone it was me in the cabbie case." He said cryptically, aware of the driver of the cab. She smiled.

"That's true. I suppose you sort of owed me there." She said and he grinned. They got out of the cab and walked up to the door. A watery-eyed blonde woman opened the door.

"Can I help you?" She asked thickly and Charlie held up her stolen ID again.

"We're with the police, we're here about your fiancée." John said and she nodded hastily and stepped aside to let them in. Charlie sat with the woman, whose name they found out was Lucy, as she told them about her ex-fiancée. The meeting didn't go down as smoothly as they had hoped and at one of John's comments she stilled, scowling at them.

"Westie wasn't a traitor! That's a horrible thing to say! He was a good man...he was my good man..." She said shakily and began to cry quietly.

"I'm sure he was; he sounds like someone I would have liked." Charlie said and John looked over at her wonderingly. Her whole face had changed and she seemed lighter, not as tense. The woman nodded and smiled slightly.

"Lots of people did like him." She said and Charlie nodded.

"So what exactly happened?" John asked.

"Well we were watching a film together...and usually he falls asleep but he sat through this one...and then he said he had to see someone and he left. Just like that." She said and Charlie nodded.

"Well thank you for your time, we will try to catch the person responsible." John said and they stood.

"Thank you."

She led them to the door where they bumped into a man on a bike. John thought idly that he smelled not unlike drop out cadets he remembered from early days in the Army.

"Who's this?" He asked roughly and Charlie scowled at him.

"They're here about Westie...this is my brother." She added for the benefit of John and Charlie.

"You with the police?" He asked and they nodded.

"Well tell them to get a move on, this is bloody ridiculous." He said and she glowered at him. John hastily bid the siblings good bye and led her off.

"Come on Charlie, don't kill sycophantic bike man. Let's go find sycophantic detective man." He said smoothly and she smiled thinly as they hailed yet another cab.

Charlie POV:

All in all Charlie was having such a bad day she was starting to refer to herself as Charlotte. That thought alone scared her more than anything. They did however manage to find their flatmate, who had actually answered his phone. Now all three of them were once again trapped together in the taxi and, Charlie was not only tired but sore, let loose a string of curse words.

"_A rogaire salach amaideach!_" She yelled as her head smacked finally against the glass of her window. Much to her annoyance Sherlock simply ignored her and collected a note from what appeared to be the same homeless woman he'd given a lot of money earlier that day. It was and Charlie grumbled as she shifted once more on the unforgiving leather seats, the small of her back aching consistently as she sort to become more comfortable. He clambered back in.

"The Vauxhall Arches." He spoke to the cabbie. John was once again sandwiched between Sherlock and Charlie and still only understood why they were acting like they were from the fact that they were both mentally unhinged. Charlie looked over at John and remembered their earlier conversation. She smirked at the thought of John holding a barrel against Sherlock's forehead., They found themselves trekking through the Vauxhall arches, ignoring the curious stares of the homeless people sleeping on the floor. Charlie looked up between two buildings and saw a clear view straight up into the starry sky. It was rare in London to see the stars but tonight they were out in full glory. She watched as a comet flung past on its way to the sun and closed her eyes briefly, remembering her mother's gentle voice telling her about wishing upon stars.

"Beautiful aren't they?" Sherlock said calmly and she looked over at him.

"I thought you didn't care about stuff like that." John pointed out and the consulting detective shrugged nonchalantly. Charlie smiled at him and returned to the stars as she listened to the two men quarrel.

"John I care little for astronomy but I can still appreciate beauty." Sherlock said and Charlie's attention was brought back to the conversation. She looked over at Sherlock and wondered at the slight pointedness of his reply. He was still looking at the stars but for a single second their eyes met and she smiled. She had limited time to appreciate the ceasefire because suddenly he pulled both herself and John around a corner. She was about to protest when Sherlock's gloved hand covered her mouth. She was pressed up against his chest and could feel his warmth even through their thick winter coats. She remained motionless and waited for whatever was to happen next.

"He's sleeping rough John said, peering round the corner.

"Why?"

"Well he has rather a distinctive look." Sherlock reply tartly as if it was the most obvious thing in the world then Sherlock seemed to remember himself and he let go of her. She stumbled and the sound alerted their quarry. He took off and they chased after the tall shadow...only for the Golem to drive away very fast.

"Damn it." She muttered and Sherlock moaned his frustration.

"Think I know where he's gone though." John said, grinning at her.

"Where?" Sherlock asked boredly. Charlie glared at him.

"Professor Kenz, she knew something that Woodbridge knew."

When they arrived there were flashing lights going haywire. They could only just see the form of the Golem as he strangled the poor woman.

"GOLEM!" Sherlock shouted at the tall man who dropped the woman on the floor before heading for them.

"Well done Sherlock." Charlie yelled and ducked to avoid the fight. Normally she would have been all over this stuff. However, fate it would seem had other plans. The two men were obviously no match for the extraordinary assassin and as she watched Charlie realised what she had to do. Sighing she braced herself for a run up before launching her body like a missile through the air and clinging to the man's back like a limpet as he choked the life out of the consulting detective he had unfortunately gotten a hold of. Even though his vision was tunnelling Sherlock seemed to realise what she was doing.

"Charlie… stay out… of the way!" He gasped as the Golem tightened his hold on his throat. John had gone off to check that the other woman was alive. Ignoring the man she clung tighter, her own hands grasping around the Golem's throat and slowly squeezing. The man began to panic, his moves becoming more unpredictable and violent. Suddenly she lost her grip and flew backwards through the air to land with a solid crash against the seats of the auditorium.

"Let him go or I swear I'll kill you!" She heard John say but not surprisingly the Golem ignored him. The blow the Golem had sent her way hurt like a bitch but she stood back up and flung herself once more into the fray, taking the man's concentration off his prey long enough for Sherlock to slip away and for John to start shooting at the escaping assailant. She stood up slowly, twisting her abused body slowly. She saw Sherlock making his way over and bit her lip. Cautiously she felt her stomach and panic set in immediately. What if she had damaged something? What if…? She couldn't bear to think about that and slowly turned to face her room mates.

"Are you alright Charlie?" John asked and she nodded. In truth nothing felt broken, and the worse she could think of was a few rather large bruises she was convinced would turn up tomorrow. She looked up to see Sherlock glaring at her.

"What?" She demanded; wincing slightly as the half-shout stretched her abused muscles.

"Do you have no respect whatever for what I say or the danger you put yourself in? I told you to stay out of the way and you nearly got yourself killed!" He yelled and she took a step back. Her fury broke again and she snarled at him.

"Where's all this caring coming from Sherlock? I honestly thought it couldn't matter if I got hurt considering you've been nothing but an arse to me since we left home this morning." She said and he flinched.

"Really? I was only serving what you've been dishing out Charlotte. You might want to start thinking about that." He retorted and she smirked.

"Oh I'm sorry, did my attitude offend the great Sherlock Holmes, the world's only consulting detective and high functioning sociopath of 221B Baker Street? Well forgive me, I didn't know I was hurting you sensitive feeling, do you want me to kiss it better?" She shouted and was dimly aware of John backing away from them as they yelled at each other from a square foot away. They were directly in each other's faces and piercing blue eyes met molten green as their tempers finally boiled over.

"I never asked you to come on this case!" Sherlock shouted and she sneered.

"I never volunteered either, I simply got dragged along on a wild goose, chased, nearly killing the…" She stopped suddenly, her fury dying completely in the slap shot of a second. She couldn't tell him that, not here, not now. Her temper drained away and she sagged slightly where she stood. Gazing up into Sherlock's blazing blue eyes and saw an emotion she'd never realised he could feel, hurt. She wasn't the only one being injured in this fight. She thought back on everything she'd said and done and realised that she had been vindictive. She opened her mouth to say something and he almost simultaneously copied her actions. They stared at each other for a full second and she fought to supress the tears that burned behind her eyes. She blinked and the moment was lost.

"We need to look at that Vermeer." Sherlock said finally and she nodded. Only John saw her wipe away the tears and even then they all pretended nothing had happened. For what seemed to be the thousandth time that day the trio got into cab and drove away in complete silence.

They had gathered together in the gallery with Lestrade and the gallery owner, a Czechoslovakian woman with a rather pinched face and made up face. Sherlock's phone rang and he pressed the speaker button.

"The Vermeer is a fake." He said firmly. There was silence.

"Oh come on! I've figured it out, proving it is just details. Give me time!" He begged and there was a pause.

"Ten..." Came a shaky voice.

"Nine..."

"Oh my God it's a kid!" Lestrade said in horror and Charlie felt her stomach drop. She stared at the painting and searched ever inch of the canvas. Suddenly she spotted the flaw and pointed madly at a spot on the canvas. Everyone turned to look at her and she rolled her eyes. She pointed again.

"Six...Five..."

Her throat closed and what felt like lead began to drain into her stomach. She knew somehow that it had to be Sherlock who said it. Finally his eyes lit up as he saw it, his phone was out in a flash and he began typing away.

"Two...One.." There was a tense moment.

"The Van Buren Supernova!" He shouted into the little pink phone. Charlie slumped against Lestrade who looked about as drained as she felt. The guy was an arse but he got the job done at least.

"Help me...please help me!" Came the voice of the boy and they sighed with relief. Sherlock nodded at Charlie who shrugged .

"How did you figure that out?" Lestrade asked and Charlie grinned.

"John, didn't you hear it when Sherlock was getting his ass kicked at the planetarium? The Van Buren Supernova, exploding star that didn't appear until 1858." She said and John chuckled.

"So how can it have been painted in the 1650s...unless...that's brilliant!" He said and she nodded, looking over at the museum director pointedly. Lestrade cottoned on quickly and soon the woman was handcuffed and the five of them were headed to Scotland Yard.

They sat around a table, eyeing the woman as she was asked questions.

"I found a man in Argentina whose brushwork could fool anyone...well almost anyone." She eyed Charlie and Sherlock who had been forced to sit side by side. John had snatched a chair next to the door and Lestrade was standing. The seated pair were visibly uncomfortable at this fact and studiedly avoided eye contact.

"But I had no idea how to go about making people believe it was genuine. It took a while but eventually I was put in touch with people who could make it happen. Never directly...there were just whispers..." She broke off and instantly to two geniuses were leaning forward.

"Did these whispers have a name?" Sherlock asked quietly,

"Moriarty." The woman whispered. Charlie flinched, and sat back whilst Sherlock looked pointedly triumphant. Her mind was going a thousand miles an hour and all she could think of was that it couldn't be him. She remained silent whilst Lestrade wrapped up the meeting. Her and John's phones went off.

_Crime scene available for inspection. MH_

Charlie looked briefly over at Sherlock before just about running to the door. She could hear John following behind her and the pair hailed a cab before setting off to the train station.

John donned a luminous jacket, Charlie refusing point blank to even look at one, before they were taken out to where West's body had been found. John hummed to himself as a large man pointed out the spot where the body had been discovered.

"Right about there. I hate 'em." He said disgustedly.

"Who?" Charlie asked staring at the ground and the train tracks around them. A theory began to form and she kept silent as the man began to rage about jumpers and the impact they had on the drivers.

"Not easy for us, strawberry jam all over the place. And the drivers have to live with it don't they?"

"Hmm." Charlie murmured, sounding oddly like a female Sherlock.

"Have you cleaned the tracks?" John asked.

"What? No. Wasn't that much blood." Charlie's head snapped up and her theory was confirmed.

"But you said his head was bashed in." John said.

"There's bound to be blood."

"Nah, not really. You guys good then?" He asked and Charlie nodded as he wandered off. Charlie smirked and rubbed the small of her back as she gazed around the place.

"Bloody brilliant."

"Well there wasn't much blood, he didn't buy a ticket, he wasn't on the train as far as we can tell...not as a passenger anyway..."

Charlie waited patiently as John came to the same conclusion she had. "So he was killed elsewhere, hence the lack of blood...but how did he get here?" Charlie smiled and indicated with her head to a track changing device which immediately switched the train line beside them away into the distance.

"Track switchers! Of course! He wasn't in the train he was on top of it! He fell off when he got to the track switchers!" John was nodding madly and exclaiming whilst Charlie simply watched him amusedly. .

"Knew you'd figure it out eventually." Came a deep, familiar voice from behind them. Charlie froze as John turned around to face Sherlock. Even though she was furious with him, Charlie couldn't help the feeling she got from the sound of his voice. It was comforting and infuriating at once.

"You've been following us?"

"Of course, you didn't honestly think I'd give up on a case like this just to spite my brother did you? The plans haven't left the country, Mycroft's people would know, so whoever has them doesn't know what to do with them. Time to visit Joe Harrison." He said and Charlie finally turned to see him standing beside the tracks, his dark blue over coat blowing slightly in the wind.

"Why?" John asked but he was already walking off. They arrived at the flat of West's fiance's brother...and he wasn't in. Both men frowned and Charlie smirked.

"Brilliant, just like the asylum." Charlie smirked and walked up to the door. She inspected the lock for about three seconds before digging into her purse and pulling out pulled a hairpin. She dug it in and after about two seconds had the door swing open. She stepped aside and bowed to the men, indicating for them to enter. They wandered up the stairs. She stumbled and felt someone grab her elbow. She turned to thank them and saw Sherlock's gloved hand. She nodded stiffly and he sighed. They walked into the main room. It was sparsely furnished – not a rich guy then. Charlie pointed to the windowsill.

"Sherlock." She said quietly and he moved past her smoothly to inspect the sill. He pulled out some sort of lens from God only knows where and began to look over the scarlet spatter.

"Definitely blood. A struggle perhaps." She said. At that moment the front door opened and as Charlie turned around the owner of said flat brandished his bike at her. John stepped around the corner, pointing his gun.

"I wouldn't do that if I were you." He said calmly and once again she was reminded of their earlier chat. They all but forced the guy down onto a sofa and simply stood looking threatening until he caved. Well John and Sherlock looked threatening, Charlie took the opportunity to laze on his couch and pick her fingernails. Psychology major or no, it was the most effective way of annoying people into submission. People generally hated it when strangers walked all over their stuff and this man was no different.

"I didn't mean to do it, it was an accident...I just wanted the plans. See I got into drug dealing...owed a lot of people a lot of money – important people...Westie was usually so strict about his job but at the stag he really opened up, waved the stick right in front of my face. It was easy getting it off of him he was so plastered...but he got suspicious, came round that night. We got into a bit of a fight and he fell down the stairs...I swear I was going to call an ambulance but it was already too late. I put the body there..." He gestured to the windowsill.

"Just sat up all night thinking. Then I saw the train..." He paused again and looked down into his clasped hands.

"And you saw an opportunity to take the evidence far away." Sherlock finished and the man nodded pathetically.

"Do you still have the stick?"

An hour later the guy was in prison, Sherlock had the coveted missile plans and the bomber had yet to call. The trio headed back to the apartment and sat around waiting. Charlie sat on the sofa, curled up in a semi-foetal position as she stared into space. Vaguely she could hear the men wandering around the apartment. There was a mad bomber on the loose, she had a growing suspicion on everything yet all she could think about was when Sherlock had touched her elbow… deep within the recesses of her stomach she could have sworn she felt a tiniest flutterings of movement.

**Dun Dun DUNNNNNNNNN! Yes and with that little tibit ladies and gentlemen I will now leave you. Please don't kill me! I write to entertain and I thought long and hard about this story even though writer's block has been a serious Mo. Fo recently. **

**Translations:**

_**Cac- shit. **_

_**A rogaire salach amaideach!- You stupid son of a bitch!**_

**Love to all and look out for my next chapter. **


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter Five**

**Alright so we all know how this is going to end, because I've made these chapters longer for your enjoyment this final chapter will be far shorter however it also means I will be able to finally move onto the next season of the world's most awesome tv show! **_***does excited happy dance, (family looks up and wonders why daughter/sister is dancing in front of the computer)***_

**I just want to thank absolutely everyone who reviewed my FF series, you guys have been amazing and I hope that this next chapter lives up to your expectations. There will be blood (not really), tears and revelations so I pray you guys like it. **

Charlie POV:

It was getting late and the bomber still hadn't called. From her curled up position on the couch Charlie watched miserably as Sherlock paced back and forth across the living room, his eyes fixed on the pink phone and his brain obviously whirring at 100 miles an hour. She sighed as she looked over at the clock. She looked at her own phone and decided that now was better than later, who knew when she'd get another chance.

"Sherlock, I'm going out for a bit… this waiting's sending me crazy." She muttered, relieved and only slightly offended when he continued to pace and ignore her. She stood and walked to her coat which was hanging by the door. She pulled it on and turned once more to look at her obviously irritated flat mate. He had paused in his movements and was looking at her. She smiled tightly and waved.

"Call me if anything happens… I want to get this son of a bitch." She said and he nodded. Her stomach in knots she walked down the stairs and passed her aunt in the hallway.

"Charlie dear, where are you going at this hour… its far too dangerous for you to go alone." Her wonderful Aunt exclaimed and Charlie smiled comfortingly.

"I won't go far, just need some air… like John." She said and Aunty Em nodded.

"Alright, be safe." She begged and Charlie nodded.

"Make sure he," She indicated with her head up the stairs,

"Tries to relax at some point this evening." Her aunt laughed and shook her head as Charlie left the apartment. It was freezing outside and she was glad that the cab didn't take too long to arrive.

"The hospital please." She asked and the cabbie smiled.

"Visiting?" He asked and she nodded.

"A friend." She lied and sat back, pulling her phone out of her pocket and dialling Sarah's number. It was picked up on the third ring.

"Hello?" A familiar voice asked and Charlie sighed.

"Sarah, its Charlie… I need your help." Charlie whispered into the phone.

"Charlie? God! Are you okay?" Sarah asked and Charlie smiled at the woman's worried tone. She had hoped that although John and Sarah had broken up that the nurse would have no grudge against herself. They had after all nearly died together that time when crazy Chinese smugglers had kidnapped them.

"I'll be at the clinic in a few minutes; can you possibly stay a little later tonight?" She asked and there was a pause.

"Of course… what's wrong?" She asked and Charlie sighed.

"I'll explain when I get there, Sarah I just want to thank you for this." She said and she hung up. A few minutes later she arrived at Sarah's work. John wasn't working tonight and she was extremely grateful. The final decision to go through with this had been when the child had moved, something had changed and now…

"Charlie?" A voice called out and she looked up to see Sarah in the door of the clinic, her white nurses' outfit starchy in the neon glow of the atrium.

"Hi Sarah I'm so sorry about all this." Charlie began but the other woman simply smiled.

"Don't be ridiculous. Come in and tell me what's happening." She ordered and Charlie followed her through the corridors to her office. Once seated Charlie's calm began to crack. She swallowed and gazed around the tiny room, gathering spit in her suddenly dry mouth. Sarah sat patiently behind her desk and finally Charlie couldn't help it.

"I didn't know who else to go to… he would find out if I went anywhere else; this whole thing is just one big mess Sarah and I… I don't know what to do." She said and buried her face in her hands.

"Charlie? Please don't cry; it's going to be alright, whatever it is." Sarah said comfortingly and Charlie felt a warm hand rest on her shoulder. She looked up into Sarah's kind face and sighed heavily.

"I'm pregnant." She whispered and Sarah's eyes flashed wide.

"What? Well that's unexpected… I mean it's great news and everything… congratulations." She said breathlessly and Charlie grimaced.

"Yeah right." She muttered and Sarah clucked sympathetically.

"How far along are you…? I'm assuming you want to start having check-ups here at the clinic so I have to ask." Sarah said and Charlie nodded, glad that she was begin infinitely more professional than she'd previously thought.

"About a month… give or take a few days. I had a bit of a fall today so I'm a little worried." Charlie said and Sarah flew into medical mode. For the next half an hour they went through the basics of the prenatal appointments that Charlie would now be attending and had a gynaecologist come in to check her over. She sighed in relief when everything was declared to be normal. The session closed on a much more serious note however when the subject of paternity came to the surface.

"You said you were worried about the father finding out, why is that Charlie?" Sarah asked and Charlie slumped in her chair.

"He doesn't remember us ever being together… how can I tell him he's a father if he can't even remember that?" She asked cynically and Sarah quirked a brow.

"Who is the father, if you don't mind?" She asked and Charlie smirked. Shaking her head she looked over at Sarah sardonically. Sarah's eyes flew wide and she mouthed a name. Charlie nodded slowly, closing her eyes and collapsing slightly in the chair. There were a few moments of silence whilst Sarah filled in Charlie's records.

"There." She said and Charlie stood shakily.

"All done, I've taken the liberty of putting the father into the unidentified category, I know the guy… he could easily crack the firewalls of this place so it's just our little secret okay?" She said and Charlie felt her eyes fill slightly.

"Thank you Sarah, I honestly don't know what I'd do without you." She said and the smaller woman embraced her lightly. Charlie checked her watch and sighed.

"I'd better head back, the case is still going and we've a bomber to catch… you did not hear that from me." She said firmly and Sarah grinned.

"Staying away from that one, I've had enough excitement to last a lifetime." She remarked dryly and they both laughed.

"Bye Charlie, take care." Sarah called and Charlie waved as she exited the room. She walked down the neon lit hallway much less worried, feeling as though a weight had suddenly been lifted. She walked out into the night air and looked around.

"C_ol cúigear?"_ A familiar voice called and she whirled around in panic.

"Jim?" She asked warily and he appeared almost like mist out of the gloom.

"Yes, my little Charlie… why were you in the medical clinic, you are well aren't you?" he asked and she nodded, still looking at him tensely.

"Yes of course, just a check-up." She said smoothly and swore she saw a hint of amusement in his eyes.

"Of course my dear. Can I give you a lift anywhere?" He asked and she shook her head and smiled. He grinned and indicated to the cab rank.

"How's that bomber case going?" He asked and she nodded, yawning slightly.

"It's going alright… not a lot happening right now but… I don't remember us ever telling you about the case." She said suddenly and turned just in time to see a fist fly towards her. It stuck her on the temple and her whole world pitched slightly. She slumped and felt him catch her around the waist.

"Now, now my dear don't panic… Jimmy's going to make it all better now. Hush and be a good girl, she's fine." He yelled suddenly and she flinched.

"New medication is kicking in." He continued and she fought desperately to stand straight, to call out but all that escaped her mouth was a weak groan. The last thing she saw was Jim's smiling face and the flashing of traffic lights before her vision tunnelled and blackness overcame her.

There was a harsh smell of chlorine in the air when she finally came to. Slowly Charlie opened her eyes to see light dancing on the white tiled wall and immediately shut them when the glare burned her eyes. Her groan of pain must have alerted someone near bye because a familiar voice suddenly called out.  
>Charlie, you're awake… thank god." It was John and painfully she reopened her eyes to find him starting down at her, his kind blue eyes widened with worry.<br>"He got you too." She remarked dryly and he nodded.

"Some cousin of yours." He said and she groaned, rolling stiffly to lean up against the wall.

"I'm so sorry, I didn't know… I thought perhaps I was wrong, that I was missing a fact that pointed to something different but now I know I wasn't mistaken… Jim is Moriarty; I should have guessed it from the start." She said miserably and John wrapped and arm around her shoulders.

"Don't be stupid, why would you suspect your own family of being a mastermind criminal, could happen to anyone." He joked lamely and she grimaced.

"John?" She asked quietly after a moment's silence.

"Yes?"  
>"Why am I wearing five pound of C4?" She asked calmly and John opened his mouth to speak when a shrill laugh bounced off the glowing tiles.<p>

"Oh cousin, I would have thought you were smarter than that… have a guess." He said and she frowned up into Jim's face.

"James Coleson Moriarty, you have some serious explaining to do… I don't have time for your stupid games now." Charlie reprimanded calmly, her temper flying to the boil in less than two seconds. He simply smiled and waited.

"Let me guess, Sherlock's coming here, to the pool where little Carl died because you're a sick, twisted psychopath with little or no respect for the rest of humanity." She said and his smile broadened.

"You want to kill him?" She asked and he snorted.

"Kill him? Well yes alright I do want him, dead but it might be just a little more fun to play with him for a little while longer, that's why I have you and little Johnny of here… you're both going to help me." He said and Charlie spat at him.

"Now, now let's be a nice, polite little girl. Didn't your parents ever teach you manners?" He taunted and she flew at him. She stopped sharp at the detonator he pulled out of his coat pocket, very much aware of the three lives that were now dependant on the 8 pounds of C4 strapped to her and John. They were the fifth pip. The final end to this game.

"James, you are…" She began but he cut her off with a small flick of his hand.

"Please, I'm tired of hearing you voice, just like I tired of hearing your parent's voices and look how that turned out." He said and she gasped. He grinned sadistically before walking over and clipped some more wires onto their jackets, pressing some sort of device into their ears.

"Here is what you're going to do. If I say something into your earpiece, you say it to Sherlock. You say anything different and he gets a bullet to the brain, got it?'" He asked and she scowled briefly before realising the fruitlessness of her actions, numbly she nodded and walked over to John, pulling him up. There was a sound as a door opened and Sherlock called something out.

"Ah, here he is now. Right on time. Johnny boy first..." Moriarty cooed and John stumbled forwards.

"Evening." Said John as Moriarty spoke into his earpiece.

"John...what?" Sherlock said and from her hidden position Charlie saw his eyes widen. She could see his brain racing now, _John couldn't be Moriarty, he just couldn't... _She closed her eyes and listened.

"Bet you never saw this coming, did you Sherlock?" Charlie was forced to say as Moriarty's voice came through her own ear piece. She glared at her cousin before stepping out into the main pool area. At this Sherlock's face transformed completely. He stared at her for about five whole seconds, his usually expressionless face becoming a highway of emotions. Anger, disbelief and (incredibly) hurt... she could see his thought train rattling through, for all he knew she could be the killer. She had studied criminal psychology, she knew all about the cases they'd been on, she even knew how he himself operated. She knew exactly how to point the finger elsewhere. Then something in her face must have alerted him to something and the disbelief disappeared. In its place was a far more worrying emotion, determination. Her entire body began to shake and she brought a hand subconsciously up to her stomach as she stared across the water at the father of her child. Realisation dawned on his marble-like countenance and he took a step forward.

"What would you like me to make them say next?" John asked and Sherlock's attention snapped back to his friend.

"Gottle o'gear, Gottle o'gear, Gottle o'gear..." John continued as Moriarty spoke into his ear.

"Stop it! Just stop, leave them alone..." Sherlock bellowed and the sound reverberated off the tiled walls.

"I can't do that Sherlock, this is too much fun." Charlie said hollowly.

"I stopped little Carl's heart...I can stop Charlotte's too. I can make you watch her die, knowing you could have saved her... It's your choice Mr Holmes, which one do I kill first?" She continued and a single tear slipped out. His piercing blue gazed followed its path down her cheek and in his eyes Charlie could see him begging her to believe in him. Telling her to trust him to get her home. She smiled slightly and straightened slightly. James spoke in her ear and she froze, she shook her head.

"No." She said and all eyes turned to her.

"You have to tell him Charlie, he's going to find out sooner or later anyway so…" John said, his face creasing in puzzlement. She shook her head and now the whole pool had gone completely silent. Sherlock was staring at her curiously and Moriarty spoke upon more, his threat repeated just one last time and finally she caved.

"I'm… I'm, please don't make me… okay, okay I'll say just don't hurt them." She drew a shaking breath.

"I'm pregnant." She said hoarsely and you could have heard a pin drop. The silence stretched out like a blanket over the three figures in the room. She looked over at John and he looked thunderstruck, immediately flicking his eyes to her stomach. Slowly she brought her eyes up to look at Sherlock and she nearly cried. He didn't look thunderstruck; shattered would have been a better word for describing the expression on his face. He was staring at her in shock, his blue eyes trained on her green ones, begging her to say she was joking even though they both knew she wasn't. She could see him mentally flicking through her behaviour, connecting the dots and finally arriving to a factor that hurt him more than anything. She saw the moment when a light bulb clicked, the moment when his memory failed him and the paternity of her child came into question. He straightened and the shattered look disappeared, replaced by a blank, marble look.

_It's yours! _She wanted to scream but her mouth failed her and she remained silent.

"Hi!" Trilled Moriarty happily as he stepped out of his hiding place. His melodramatic side came into play and he grinned.

"Jim Moriarty!" He gasped theatrically

"Jim? Jim from IT? Was I honestly that forgettable? Then again that was rather the point, even my dear cousin Charlie here didn't notice! I suppose one can forgive her though, baby brain and all…" He trailed off and stepped close to her, running a hand through her crimson hair.

"Is that an Army Browning L901 in your pocket or are you just happy to see me?" He asked. Sherlock withdrew a gun from his pocket and pointed it at Moriarty.

"Both." He announced and Charlie stiffened.

"Charlotte?"

"Go on c_ol cúigear_, John, you can talk now. Tell this nice man how you're feeling." Moriarty jeered.

"I'm fine..." John said stiffly and Charlie just stared blankly across the water.

"Sherlock, I'm so sorry, I'm so sorry..." She began but Jim cut her off with a hand over her mouth.

"Oh how adorable!" Moriarty shrieked.

"They must make such nice pets!"

Sherlock reached into his pocket.

"I have the plans." Sherlock held out a memory stick. Moriarty gasped moved forward to take them.

"The missile plans...boring!" He threw them into the pool. Charlie just stared.

"I could have gotten them anywhere!"

"Did you like my work? I did it all for you...you see I'm a specialist too. I've given you a glimpse...just a teensy glance, of what I have going on out there in the big bad world Sherlock, so what do you think?" Moriarty, asked, eyes locked on Sherlock. It was almost like some sick show and tell moment, like he was looking for approval.

"A consulting criminal...that's brilliant." Sherlock murmured softly in a semi-awed, semi-loathing tone, his eyes never left said consulting criminal as he continued to point the gun directly into his face.

"Isn't it? So did you like my game?" Jim asked and Charlie felt the sudden urge to kick him rise within her.

"People have died..." She began and whirled at her.

"That's what people DO!" He roared and she stepped back. The villain himself smirked and walked closer to her.

"Charlie, you of all people should know about the mortality of this pathetic race, look at you family. You parents and Francis are gone, I could easily get rid of your Aunt and you know it, it would be like setting up that car accident all over again." He said and she cried out.

"You killed my parents?" She demanded and she smiled.

"Please, that was cake walk. They were annoying, self-righteous people and you were going to grow directly into their shoes. You were just one big happy family and I hated you all for that." He said and she gasped.

"They loved you like a second son, they loved you and you killed them." She screamed and ran forwards to grasp his jacket. His eyes flew wide and she glowered at him.

"Have I touched a nerve?" He asked jokingly.

"Let. Them. Go!" Sherlock shouted, his usually calm face contorted into a livid mask.

"Well I'd love to but the flirting is over Sherlock! Daddy's had enough now!" His voice was high and mocking as he pushed Charlie away and she stumbled, slipping on the wet floor. John launched himself forwards and caught her before she hit the cement. Both were breathing hard and she glanced at him gratefully. There was a strange look in his eye at and he nodded towards Moriarty's back. She smiled and stood straight.

"Sherlock run!" John yelled as he grabbed Moriarty. He paused however as the red sniper dots appeared on Sherlock's head, glinting off his unruly dark hair. Charlie pulled at his jacket sleeve desperately.

"I'm afraid you two have rather shown your hand there." Moriarty mocked as he let go and stepped back.

"Why are you doing this?" Sherlock asked, gun still raised.

"Because it was fun for a while, playing games. Now you're in my way! So I've decided that I'm going to destroy you Sherlock Holmes, I am going to rip the heart out of you." He said and the Irish brogue strengthened as he spoke. Charlie growled.

"_Lá breá ag do chaired, dod adhlacan." _She muttered murderously. He chuckled.

"Oh I'm sure they'd have a wondrous time my dear, I always liked a good Irish wake." He said and she snarled.

"I've been reliably informed that I don't have one." Sherlock said flatly. Moriarty giggled, eyes drifting over to John and Charlie, lingering on his cousin's form ever so slightly.

"But we all know that's not quite true is it? For example if I was to tell my men to pull the trigger, if you had to hear Charlie here screaming as she was blown apart by four pounds of quality C4... wouldn't that break your heart Sherlock?" He asked and Sherlock seemed to flinch, slightly.

Sherlock POV:

His entire stomach felt as though it were made of lead. If he wasn't aware of the fact that he was a sociopath, Sherlock would have been sure his heart was actually hurting. He wanted to go over to Charlie. What he would do he wasn't quite sure; he was still deciding whether to embrace her tightly and never let her go or to strangle the life out of her. He remembered when he had told her that heroes didn't exist… her green eyes had blazed with fury when he'd said that and now they looked dead. This whole time she'd been limp, standing beside her insane cousin strapped to explosives and trying to keep herself and now obviously a baby alive. The baby. The very thought made his gut feel as though it had been struck with a fist. How on earth hadn't he seen it before? The fatigue, the temper tantrums… the mood changes, he remembered grimly. Not to mention the even more interesting conundrum of how the hell she'd managed to get pregnant without him ever seeing a male friend/lover. He puzzled then remembered the job at hand.

"And what if I was to shoot you right now?" He asked, pointing his gun at Moriarty's eyes.

"Well you could cherish the look of surprise on my face..." He mocked him, pulling a shocked face.

"Then again you wouldn't be able to cherish it for very long would you?"

The red dots appeared in force on John and Charlie. He swore internally, not good. Alright, now he was over the games.

"Well it's been fun. Ciao Sherlock Holmes..." Moriarty said as he began to back away. Charlie turned to face him and when she spoke Sherlock felt himself shiver slightly, knowing that if he were ever on the receiving end of that tone of voice he would probably run like buggery to the nearest airport.

"I will find you James and I will kill you." She promised solemnly before turning away and fixing her gaze to the floor.

"Catch...you...later." Sherlock said coldly stepping forwards with the gun still trained on Moriarty's form.

"No you won't!" Came his squally reply. The red dots disappeared as a door slammed and Sherlock ran over to check if he had actually gone. He had. He ran back in just as Charlie and John sagged, leaning against the changing cubicles. John began to rip off the bomb vest Charlie wore and Sherlock sprinted over. He knocked John's hands out of the way, tugging the heavy thing off her and throwing it as far away as he could. John also ripped his off and it joined its cohort some ten or so feet away.

"Christ..." John muttered and Sherlock shared a relieved glance with him over Charlie's head. The woman in question was now slumped over, her face hidden within the recesses of her hair.

"Charlie you're okay, you're all right, I'm here..." Sherlock said and she looked up at him before a small sob broke from her lips.

"I'm glad no one saw that," John joked.

"You pulling everyone's clothes off in a darkened swimming pool...people would talk."

"It's all they ever do." Sherlock replied as Charlie flung herself into his chest.

"Oh Sherlock I'm sorry I shouted at you! I didn't mean it I swear I was just so angry with you, you're such a stupid jerk and I suppose it was my hormones going schizophrenic…" She trailed off and reached up to stroke his cheek. The touch seemed spread warmth throughout his body, despite the chill of the pool room.

"Charlie…" He began but a door suddenly slammed and Moriarty walked in, the sniper dots reappearing.

"Sorry but I'm SO Changeable! It's a weakness in me...though to be fair it is my only weakness! You know too much, cliché but true. I can't let you live." He said and Charlie raised her head to look at her cousin and Sherlock realised he would be her hero right now, he would get and John back to the flat and he would bloody well find out how the hell she got pregnant.

Sherlock raised his gun again, pointing it at Moriarty. At the unimpressed look on his face Sherlock lowered the gun to explosive ridden vests between them and him. Moriarty's face betrayed a glimmer of his fear. His head tilted slightly, undulating not unlike a serpent's. Charlie stood and wrapped an arm around his waist as she looked up into his face. John glanced at him and the two men nodded. He stared at Charlie for a long time before levelling the gun at the bombs. The world stood still Sherlock just hoped half way to hell that he deserved the trust in their eyes. He took and deep breath and…

**OH MY GOD! I CAN'T BELIEVE I'VE FINALLY FINISHED THIS! This must be the shortest story I have ever done but not to fear, I will return with a whole new series of Sherlock/Charlie. OMG he knows! What will happen now? What will he do? Hope you enjoyed this story and I have plans for a new story called… A Scandal They Call It. **

**Translations:**

_**Col cúigear- Cousin (once removed)**_

_**Lá breá ag do chaired, dod adhlacan- May your friends have a good time, at your burial.**_


End file.
